When Hearts Hold On
by librawriter
Summary: With Hermione getting married in a matter of hours, Ron feels heartbroken. Then she owls him and wants to share last minute jitters with her best friend. Ron needs to tell her the truth about his feelings before it's too late. But will he?
1. Chapter 1 Daydreaming

_A/N: This is an alternate universe story that I wrote a long time ago. I've actually got pretty much the entire story written, but it's been awhile since I pulled this one out and I am editing each chapter carefully before posting. I'm warning you all now that this story will be upsetting and highly offensive to some. I had previously published it on another site, but received so much hate mail that I never finished it. Still, this story took on a life of its own, and I'm proud of it. I'd love for you to read it b/c this is my favorite fan fiction site of them all. If you hate it, please keep it to yourself 'cuz that's what I do when I read stories I don't like. If you have a positive comment, please review!_

Chapter 1: Daydreaming

"_Excuse_ me, sir, how much for the Snapping Dragon fireworks?"

As usual, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a flurry of activity—from the delighted squeals of children who'd found the perfect gag to the parents who pulled items out of eager fists with words of warning—yet Ron Weasley had still managed to slip away into a daydream about Hermione Granger. Fifth time today.

"Sir? _Sir_!" The voice was now persistent, unrelenting. Ron blinked as Hermione's lovely image vanished into thin air to be replaced by an unlovely and impatient looking witch rocking a chocolate smudged toddler on her hip and waving a box of fireworks under Ron's nose.

"Sorry. They're ten Galleons," he said, backing up a little. The witch's already bulbous eyes stretched even wider.

"Ten? For _this tiny box_?" she exclaimed. Her son began to tug at the box of fireworks, nearly ripping the package open.

"Ten. For that 'tiny box'," Ron said. "And if you think the price is too high, you'd better watch your boy there. He's about to tear the box apart and I can't sell it to anyone but you once it's been opened."

The witch, giving him a dirty look, dropped the carton down on the counter in front of Ron, and stalked off in a huff, muttering to herself about "the rudeness of some people".

_You can bugger off as well_, thought Ron, rolling his eyes. He picked the fireworks up and walked with it back to the shelf where it belonged. As he placed it down, he let out a defeated sigh. He knew he could have been kinder, could have made that sale easily despite the cost of the Snapping Dragons, but the truth of the matter was that he didn't really care today. There were approximately eighteen hours left until Hermione became Mrs. Robert Culbert. Robert Culbert, a high ranking Junior Secretary working for the Ministry of Magic. A shoddy git, in Ron's opinion.

"Ron, I'm your sister. Tell me, honestly…how are you feeling about Hermione's wedding? Do you want me to tell her I can't be a bridesmaid?" Ginny had asked twice this past week. She knew him like the back of her hand, so he knew he wasn't fooling her, not one little bit, as he'd answered twice, "I really don't care about you being her bridesmaid, Gin. I'm not bothered by it at all. I've told you, I'm feeling just fine. I'm happy for her. Really, I am."

It was lies, every word.

Ron was miserable and could not, try as hard as he might, feel an inkling of gladness for her as he thought about Hermione walking down an aisle in a white dress to speak words of love and forever to Robert. He didn't really know Robert, had only been in his company a few times, but he didn't need to know him to know that Robert could not possibly feel the same way about Hermione than he himself did.

"Get over it. Get over _her_, for Merlin's sake. You two never even dated, so what do you still want her for anyway? There are a million other birds that would kill to have you," Charlie had told him. Fuck did Charlie know, he never settled with any witch for more than a month or two.

Ron supposed part of the reason he had women ready to "kill for him" was because he could be considered wealthy, to say the least. Fred and George had opened their third joke shop in London and they'd left managing their first shop to Ron. To everyone's surprise, Ron turned out to be an even better businessman than the twins. He found the mathematical side of it fascinating, and loved that the environment of the business allowed him to be himself—playful, witty, and sometimes sarcastic. He was so excited when he'd saved enough to get an impressive sized flat in London.

"It's lovely, Ron, really. I love it," Hermione had told him when he'd shown it to her. The way she had lingered after he'd given her a tour of every inch of his new flat almost caused him to ask her to stay for dinner (he'd learned to cook some very nice dishes, courtesy of Molly Weasley insisting he know some basic recipes before moving into his own place), but then he remembered that she was with Robert, and ended up saying nothing to prolong her visit. At that time, she had only been engaged, but Ron felt Hermione might reject him outright, and he wouldn't risk being rejected by her.

Still, in regards to the business, Ron felt as though he had found his purpose, at least for now. "I'm doing well for myself. Who'd have thought it?" he mused, and it was true; he was doing well, extremely well. Just as well, if not more so than that Culbert bloke.

There were times when Ron thought that maybe Charlie was right about everything, maybe he should move on with his life. Maybe it was foolish that he still cared for Hermione after all this time, especially when nothing had ever transpired between the two of them.

True, there had been those occasional moments that had made him feel closer to her than ever before, moments during what should have been their last year at Hogwarts, when instead he, Harry and Hermione had been hunting down Horcruxes and Voldemort.

There were those moments, those times where he'd held her close during nights when Hermione had been bruised and exhausted, wondering how much more she could take….the times when he'd whispered her to sleep, telling her how they would make it, that everything would be okay one day; there were the times when Hermione could not sleep unless part of her was touching him, his arm or his hand, sometimes her head on his chest. He'd watched over her every night. He had to know that she was sound asleep before he could even think about getting rest himself. He didn't mind, no matter how long it took her to doze off, no matter how exhausted he was, because he loved watching her sleep. Ron grew to memorize the way Hermione's face set in a gentle slumber, her mouth slightly parted. She was breathtaking, even when she hadn't had a proper bath or combed her hair in days.

If only he had been able to let her know when she was awake.

Somehow, he always managed to lose his wits. Rather, never had them in the first place when it came to her. It didn't make sense, really, for Ron had displayed his courage many times during that year, but found he never had the courage to tell Hermione how he really felt about her, that he had promised himself before they'd even set out that he would face death to protect her, if it came to that. Nothing, no one, would harm her and live as long as he was breathing.

Ron often wondered, especially on nights when they would catch eyes across the campfire or she would reach for him before she slept, how _she_ felt about _him_. He thought that maybe she felt something other than friendship for him, when she pressed her mouth against his cheek before going to sleep, whispering, "Goodnight, Ron."

But she often kissed Harry goodnight too, though never in the dark and never did she let her lips linger against Harry's face the way she did his.

Then there was the time he'd accidentally stumbled upon her early one morning as she was bathing in a clear pond they'd come across.

"Ron! I don't have any clothes on!" she'd shrieked, covering her breasts with her hands, crouching down low in the water.

"Oh, God! I'm…I'm sorry!" he'd sputtered, closing his eyes and stumbling away as though blind. Feeling thoroughly mortified, he could barely look at her when he'd apologized for the second time later on that day.

"That's alright. We're like brother and sister anyway," she'd said. _Brother and sister. She sees me as a brother_, Ron had thought. Still, it didn't stop Ron from pleasuring himself later that night, after she and Harry had fallen asleep. God, even that brief glimpse of her in the pond, her wet body, her long hair, damp and curly, trailing down her back…

And so it was; Ron and Hermione had both helped Harry face and defeat Voldemort and they'd all been able to celebrate with their family and friends in a joyous homecoming, everyone glad to be alive.

That had been almost five years ago. Since then, Harry and Ginny had married, Bill and Fleur were on their third child, and somewhere along the way, Hermione had gotten engaged, which was devastating enough—"Really? Congratulations, Hermione. That's great"-- and now was getting married in a matter of hours. Fucking _married_, while Ron was alone, as usual, save for the meaningless nights with a giggling twit here and there. His heart was closed to all those women, though. His heart belonged to a girl who was going to walk down the aisle towards a man that was not him.

_Damn, I'm doing it again_ thought Ron with a sigh. He forced himself to smile as he rang up a long line of customers.

The rest of the day went by without too much excitement, and just as Ron was about to cast a 'Closed' charm in the front window, a small gray messenger owl flew in.

Ron pulled the little rolled up piece of parchment from the owl's leg.

_Ron,_

_I found some photos of us from our first year at Hogwarts-- they are __priceless__! I'd love for you to see them later on if you won't be busy. Ginny, Demelza and Katie are taking me out for drinks at The Growler around nine thirty, but I won't stay out with them too long. You know me, I've never been much of a drinker. Let me know if you want to see them. I've borrowed the owl from the office--we're not supposed to send them out this late, but my boss left hours ago. I've been catching up on paperwork, so I can wait for your response before I leave. _

_Hermione_

Ron swallowed hard, and glanced at the large clock on the wall. It was a little past nine now. He had to get home and clean if she was going to stop by—his flat was filthy. He smiled as he thought of Hermione working late at the office, still an overachiever after all this time. Grabbing the nearest quill, he scribbled a reply:

_Hermione,_

_I'd like to see how much of an arse I looked during our first year at Hogwarts—it'll make me feel good about how far I've come. Just promise me you get your laughs out before you get here. See you later, then. _

_Ron_

He refastened the note to the owl's leg and released it into the London night. For reasons he could not explain, he felt light headed. Hermione was actually coming to visit with him before her wedding. It shouldn't be a big deal, as they'd stayed close friends over the years, but Ron could not remember the last time he'd spent time with Hermione alone. Well, he'd have to be strong tonight. It didn't make sense to tell her how he felt about her now, when her wedding day was tomorrow. She would just never know, it would be a secret that he kept in his heart for all eternity. That's what he told himself as he pulled the door to his shop closed, locked and charmed it.

He ignored the way his hands trembled, which only meant one thing-- he was, in fact, scared shitless.


	2. Chapter 2 Last Confessions

Chapter 2: Last Confessions

It was well past eleven when; much to his surprise, Ron heard a knock at his front door.

"What are you knocking for? You could have just Apparated. It's not like I didn't know you were coming," Ron said to Hermione.

She looked beautiful and he fought the very tempting urge he had to gaze into her eyes as she looked up at him from underneath a lock of long, wavy hair that fell gently across her face. He noted—and liked-- how she'd lightly made up her eyes, and the way her mouth was moist with some kind of shiny lipstick. Though Hermione was wearing a thin white button down sweater, Ron could still make out her form fitting pink dress that scooped uncharacteristically low in the front. Her legs looked stunning all the way down to the matching high heeled sandals she was wearing. His heart started thumping uncontrollably, and he found himself repeating short, quick verses over and over in his mind: _She's not your girl, you're just friends, she's not your girl, and you're just friends…_

"I needed to think about some things," she said. "So I decided to walk."

"You went walking alone in the streets of London at almost midnight wearing that dress because you wanted to _think_? Are you drunk?" Ron asked, moving aside as Hermione entered his flat.

She let out a laugh. "No, I'm not drunk. I don't get drunk, Ron, you know that. And what's wrong with my outfit? It's my last night of freedom! Besides, we were all dressed up," she said. Ron pretended he hadn't heard the "last night of freedom" comment.

"It's just not safe to walk alone wearing…stuff like _that_," he said under his breath.

Hermione looked curiously at him. "I wasn't in any kind of danger. I walk around by myself all the time. Besides, there are tons of people about."

"Still wasn't safe…" Ron muttered again.

"Anyway, shall we look at the pictures I brought?" she asked briskly.

"Yes, let's."

"Don't worry, I'm not staying long. I just wanted to show these to you."

"Uh, Hermione, in case you forgot, I'm twenty-two years old. I don't have a bedtime. It doesn't matter to me how long you stay—"

"Well, you might have a date coming over later or something. I hear you're quite popular with ladies. You must have plenty of women," Hermione interrupted, blushing.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Can I use the loo?" Her words came out in a rush, as if _she_ was on a first date going down the drain.

_But it's just me. It's me,_ Ron thought, feeling baffled.

"Yeah, go ahead," Ron said, and sat on the couch, his mind still whirling. A date coming later? Plenty of women? And who'd told her that he was popular with the ladies?

_Maybe she's nervous, too,_ Ron thought curiously. _But she _couldn't_ be…I'm the one that's got my heart in this...right? _

He sat pondering this for what felt like ages until he heard the clicking of Hermione's heels coming back towards him down the hallway. He looked up at her and fought a gasp. Now the little sweater she'd been wearing was off, and he could see the outline of her shapely figure. He tried not to stare at the all the smooth skin exposed underneath the delicately thin straps of her dress-- that damn pink dress that was going to make him lose his mind. She sat down on the couch, pulling her long, wavy hair over one of her shoulders, a look that Ron had always loved, though it was yet another thing he'd never mentioned to her. She looked so breathtaking sitting in front of him that for a moment, he thought the whole evening wasn't real.

"Remind me to get my sweater before I go. I took it off back there. I-I was a little hot," Hermione said, drawing Ron out of his reverie.

This _was_ real, after all. Hermione really _was_ here.

_Snap out of it! _

"Hot? I'm sorry, d'you want me to open some windows?" Ron asked, starting to get up.

"No, no, you don't have to do that," Hermione replied, flapping her hands dismissively. She was fidgety, and seemed not to know what to do with her hands. First they were in her lap, then they were combing through her hair, then they were tucked under her right knee. "Just don't let me forget my sweater when I leave," she said. "I'm not staying over long."

"You've told me that already."

"Have I? I'm sorry. Well, anyway, here are the pictures I brought." Her hands now found a purpose as they pulled a small envelope out of her bag and dumped the pictures onto the couch in the space between the two of them.

As she started talking and laughing about each one, Ron found he couldn't focus on her words. He was too mesmerized by the sight of her crossed legs and the way her dress rode up her thigh.

Thighs that Robert would be between this time tomorrow.

He suddenly felt sick.

"What's the matter with you?" Hermione asked, peering at him closely.

"Me? Nothing. I'm looking at the pictures. Oh, see, there's one Mum took of the three of us-- me, you and Harry, that summer we went to visit Charlie," he said quickly, hoping to divert her attention from him. Luckily, it worked.

When Hermione had flipped the last picture to the back of the stack, Ron was seized with a surge of pure panic. _Fuck, now what? What will we talk about now that the pictures are gone?_

He needn't have worried, however. Hermione launched into a conversation about a new assignment she was working on at work, and from there, things continued on about their jobs, their families, their best and worst days in the past month. It was still as easy to talk to her now as it had been back at Hogwarts. It was nice to be like this with her, the only woman he knew who was intelligent and sexy at the same time. His heart settled into a comfortable rhythm as her company filled him with such lightheartedness he almost forgot that she was soon to be married to someone else. Soon, he would not have this time to spend alone with her.

Before he knew it, Ron was thinking about the man that Hermione was going to marry, and about how well Robert thought he knew her. How well _did_ Robert know her? Did he know how Hermione would do almost anything to avoid making a mistake—and that didn't just go for her work? She was a perfectionist about everything, she gave everything she did 110 percent. Did Robert know it? Did he know how compassionate she was about seeing justice done? Did Robert know that Hermione had read _Hogwarts: A History_ exactly eight times all the way through? Did he know that she hated to cook and that her favorite time of the day was the morning? Her favorite color was pale yellow? She had kept a journal ever since she was seven years old? That she preferred crushed ice to cubed?

"What makes you love him?" Ron asked suddenly.

Hermione, who had been talking about Witherwings' babies, stopped mid-laugh as her face went totally blank.

"What?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Robert. What makes you love him?" Ron repeated. He supposed that it was a personal question, even for two people who had known each other for ages, but it had come to his mind, so he'd blurted it out without thinking and now he wanted an answer. _Why him and not me,_ was what he really wanted to ask. _What has he got that I haven't?_

Hermione seemed bewildered by it. She looked on the verge of tears as she opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it quickly. And then opened it again, closed it again.

She finally replied quietly, "I…I…I guess because he doesn't expect me to be anything I'm not. Not glamorous or anything."

"Not glamorous?"

"You know, he, um, tells me he's glad that, um, I'm plain. He accepts me as being just an ordinary girl," she said.

"You're kidding. That's bollocks."

"I'm not offended, honestly. I despise superficiality. I think it's quite fitting that he and I have a relationship that's not based solely on looks. That way I don't have to worry that I'm not pretty enough—"

"You're the most beautiful and smartest woman I've ever known. I've _always_ thought that," Ron said. He couldn't believe that Robert had actually told Hermione that she was plain, the bastard. He could scarcely believe that Hermione actually loved Robert back because he accepted her as being "plain". Did she honestly never see how much Ron admired everything about her, the nagging included? She must not have. She must not have cared to notice. Even now, she didn't acknowledge his compliment to her, just stared down at the scattered pictures on her lap, looking lost.

After several silent moments, Hermione said, "It's late. I should be going. I stayed a lot longer than I intended to."

Ron felt an uncomfortable lump form in his throat, but he forced a smile and said, "I understand. You've got a big day tomorrow." He paused, then added, "It was, you know, good to see you one last time before you're a _Mrs_."

"Just make sure you get there early. There're a lot of people coming."

Ron couldn't think of an excuse to bow out gracefully, so he didn't say anything. Hermione frowned. "You'll be there, won't you?"

"Er…I actually have some things to do at the shop that can't wait, so I won't be able to make it," Ron said.

He was surprised at how hurt she looked. He was sorry for it, truly he was, but he knew there was no way in hell he was going to attend her wedding. It would be the end of him.

"But...but…Harry and Ginny are coming. _Everyone_ is coming. I was expecting you to be there, too," Hermione said. The disappointment in her voice was raw, obvious.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry I have to miss it. I'll get you a really nice wedding gift though, how's that?" he said with a totally phony grin. His stomach had bunched up into knots. The feeling of needing to vomit had returned, right at the mention of her wedding.

Hermione said nothing, but instead gave him an equally strained smile. Ron's heart was now convulsing in his chest, threatening to shatter. His first and only love, _his girl_ was getting married tomorrow, and still, he couldn't find a way to tell her how she was breaking his heart by what she was getting ready to do. He wanted her to know how she belonged with him and only him, but couldn't say the words. He only wished he could be so brave, but he wasn't. In matters of the heart, he had never been.

_I'm just a fucking idiot. And what difference would it make now, you git; it's too late. _

"Do you think we'll still be friends? After I'm married?" Hermione asked quietly. 

Ron paused. "I'd like it if we stayed friends. We've been through a lot together."

"We have," she agreed, nodding her head.

_Go_ _on, just tell her now how special she is. Just say it. Say something, damn you!_

"Robert's got a hell of a girl. He'd better treat you right," Ron forced himself to say, hoping it wouldn't be too much.

But Hermione smiled shyly. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll come to your rescue," Ron said without hesitation. _All these years, Hermione, I've only wanted to be a hero to you. I've only wanted you to be happy._ The ghost words swirled inside of his heart, hurling themselves against his mouth, but still unable to find escape. He swallowed them back down, vowing to find a way to finish them off once and for all once she had gone. Firewhiskey ought to work just fine.

Hermione was looking sad, and again, his brain scolded him as he wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. Probably so. If he'd been saying the right things all these years, she would be with him now.

He cleared his throat, preparing himself to tell her that familiar old lie. "I wish you both the best, honestly."

"Thank you." Hermione said. She collected all of the pictures, and put them back into the envelope. When she stood slowly, he did also and as he did, Ron's heart officially sank to his knees; she was leaving and this was it. It would be over as soon as she walked out the door. The whole nonsense about staying friends…as much as he would love to stay in her life, he knew it would hurt too much. He wouldn't be able to look at her wearing a wedding band, knowing that she was gone to him forever.

He coughed to keep from crying, shifting from one foot to the other, not knowing whether to shake her hand of give her a hug or maybe even kiss her on the cheek. He came towards her, leaving his final goodbye to her in the hands of fate, but Hermione wasn't looking at him. She was turning in a half circle, looking for something.

"My sweater…I just need my sweater, and I'll be going," she said.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll go get it, it was in the back, didn't you say—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll run and get it," Hermione said, and hurried towards the back of the flat. Ron let her go alone, running his hands through his hair, exhaling deeply as he stared at the ceiling and fought against tears.

_Stop it,_ he told himself. _Just stop it. It's over. _

Of course he didn't have any important work that "couldn't wait", but what _would_ he do tomorrow, knowing that at six o'clock she would be walking down the aisle?

He would leave town. Yes, he'd take a little vacation for a few days, that's what he would do. Pretend the whole thing wasn't happening. Then he would return to London fully ready to move on without her in his life once and for all. It was the only sensible thing to do. Get over it; get over her, as Charlie had said.

"Ron? I can't find it," Hermione called from the back of the flat.

"Can't you? I was sure you left it back here," Ron said, and started down the hall.

He peeked into the bathroom, but she wasn't there. He went to the next room, his bedroom, and got quite the shock to find Hermione standing in the middle of the room, sobbing uncontrollably.

"My God, what is it? What's wrong?" Ron asked, rushing to her. His heart pounded as he grabbed her by the shoulders, but she wouldn't meet his eye. Her face was filled with anguish as she shook her head.

"Tell me, what is it? What can I do?" he demanded frantically. "Are you sick? Are you hurt?"

"You'd hate me if I told you. I can't. I _can't_," Hermione wept. "You'd hate me. You'd think I was a horrible person—"

"There's nothing you could ever tell me that would make me hate you or think you're horrible—"

"You _would_ hate me…you _would_…" she sobbed.

"Hermione, there's nothing that would ever keep me from loving you, don't you know that?" Ron said, the words out a nanosecond before he realized his confession. Her eyes opened wide then, the sensual brown burning into his cobalt blue.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, and let go of Hermione. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning from her quickly. He was embarrassed, slipping up and admitting what he had kept secret for years—and then to say it aloud, knowing she didn't feel the same. He wanted to shrink into the floorboards.

Several quiet, bewildering moments passed with Ron not knowing what the hell to do. He gulped, looking at his feet, and cursed against under his breath. But then Hermione was putting her hand on his shoulder, coming around to face him. "Is it true? What you just said?"

He did not answer. He could barely look at her.

"Do you?" she asked him softly. "Do you love me?"

Ron closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do. It's the truth, okay? I love you. And there it is, the night before your wedding day, when it doesn't fucking matter," he said bitterly.

"It matters, Ron. It matters a lot!" Hermione wailed, her eyes filling up with tears again. She shook her head, and, then, with a frustrated scream, cried, "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"What difference does it make? The way I feel means nothing to you. It changes nothing! You're in love with Robert, you're getting married tomorrow—"

"I'm in love with _you_, Ron! You! I love _you._ That's what I wanted you to know, that's what I've always wanted you to know! I don't love Robert. I don't love him. There, I've gone and said it! And I—" Hermione stopped short, looking absolutely desperate.

Ron's heart leapt back up to his chest, beating rapidly. There was a brief moment where neither of them moved, their eyes locked onto one another's. Then suddenly, in a single move, they had both lunged towards each other, holding on to each other as if it was their last night on earth. And maybe, in some abstract sense, it was.

"Ron! Damn you, why didn't you tell me before!" Hermione was crying, clinging to him so hard that he nearly had trouble breathing. He didn't mind at all.

"I was a bloody coward…I didn't know how…"He tried to explain, but Hermione started to kiss him, urgently, all over his neck and his face, and by the time their mouths had found each other, their worlds had collided, and Ron knew that nothing would be the same between them again. He kissed Hermione back with all he had, opening his mouth over hers, pushing his tongue against hers. It was as if their bodies had been expecting it all along, as all control, all barriers were promptly lost.

Ron wanted nothing except her naked body against his, as all his years of desperation for her emerged in an instant. He sucked her neck hungrily, unable to decide between it and her mouth. He went from one place to the other, greedy, wanting everything from her. He wanted it all. Little whimpers escaped her as he suddenly became fraught with a driving, animalistic lust, and tore at the straps of her dress, jerking it down, the material ripping beneath his fingers. Ron surprised even himself as something stronger than passion burst through his body. His desire for her became, in the moment their mouths had touched, a need. He needed all of her, right now or he would explode. His cock throbbed, desperate to explore her most private places.

More of her dress tore beneath his fingers, and he thought she might be angry…but no, she was helping him, undressing him as well, yanking his shirt over his head as she kicked off her heels. Ron pushed the rest of her dress down, his hands grasping at her soft skin as he reached around her and snapped the clasp to her lace bra off. Hermione pressed herself against Ron even harder, wrapping her arms tightly around him, never letting her mouth fall from his.

She was petite, and light, so he had no trouble at all lifting her by her hips, guiding her legs around his waist. Kissing madly, they crashed roughly against the wall behind them; still, neither of them stopped. Steadying Hermione with one arm around her waist, Ron fumbled quickly with the button of his jeans with his other hand, popping them open in no time. Hermione's fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down just enough to set him free. With a groan, Ron fell back towards Hermione, and yanking her panties to the side, drove his swollen erection deep inside of her in one swift motion. She leaned her head back at his first thrust inside of her, crying out in as he filled her to the hilt. He pressed his face against her throat, steadying her legs around his waist before he drove out and pushed himself back inside her again.

"…Hermione…oh, God…I'm sorry…" Ron panted against her lips.

"No…I want you to…only you…" Hermione whimpered, her eyes closed as she bit her lower lip. Ron bucked in and out of her against his bedroom wall, over and over as her fingers twisted through his hair. She arched her back again, letting out a series of gasps as Ron pressed up into her, hard and fast. He kept it up, moving inside of her until he saw an eruption of color, and felt himself exploding like a time bomb into her. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as he released inside her body with a groan of pleasure. Hermione's face stayed pressed against his neck, her arms holding him against her. He could feel both their hearts beating wildly, together and in sync. Then, trembling, his hands found her face, and he kissed her once more.

He quickly freed himself from the jeans that lay tangled around his ankles, and pulled her away from the wall, carrying her to his bed, where he lay on top of her in a deep embrace. Hermione would not let him go, nor did he wish to be let go of. For a long time, they lay together this way. If only this was the night before their own wedding. If only she didn't have to go. If only, if only…

When Ron could prolong what he'd been thinking no longer, he whispered to her, "What will we do?"

"I can't…I can't think about that. I just want to think about now, being with you like this," Hermione whispered back.

"With me is the way it should be," Ron murmured. He closed his eyes, and pulled her against him. "Stay with me…"

"I don't know if I can do that, Ron. I don't think I should…" Hermione said with a yawn.

But she was asleep before she uttered another word. Ron, who would soon follow, knew that he should set some type of alarm call to wake her early, but it felt too good to have her lying there with him, so he didn't.


	3. Chapter 3 Hermione's Choice

Chapter 3: Hermione's Choice

Although the first sunrays of morning had stretched its thin yellow fingers beneath the partially-drawn blinds above Ron's bed, it was the twittering of a nearby bird that awakened him first.

He rolled onto his side, bringing Hermione closer against his chest, and kissed the top of her head. He spent the next few moments mesmerized by her, thinking how lucky he was to have her there, after finally confessing what had been in his heart for so long. For too long. As far as Ron was concerned, life could get no better; it was a moment worthy of savoring, to be recalled during times when his moods got the better of him.

He leaned down to kiss her bare shoulder. She stirred; he kissed her again on the lips, then again on her ear. Ron felt Hermione's body tense suddenly.

"What time is it?" she gasped, sitting up with a start in the bed. She noticed the clock across the room, which read 9:12. "You should have woken me, Ron!"

"I'm sorry. I fell asleep, too," Ron said, stretching. He supposed that Hermione would want to be alone to tell Robert about the two of them, but he had every intention of going with her. He was going to be a man about what he had done — it was the least he could do.

"Hang on a second," Ron said. "Let me get dressed, and we'll tell Robert—"

"No! No, I'm not telling anything; certainly, not about us. I'm getting married!" Hermione had thrown back the covers and was frantically pulling on her ripped dress. "I had a hair appointment at nine!"

And it was then that Ron froze, as if someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water in his face. He _couldn't_ have heard her correctly.

"You aren't going through with the wedding? You can't be serious. Not after last night," he said, incredulously.

A horrible, nauseating silence embodied the room.

"Answer me, Hermione." Ron was growing impatient. It was silly, what she was doing, playing around with him like that, and it wasn't funny anymore. He wanted the game to stop.

Hermione faltered, turning from him. Her voice broke as she said, "I need you to understand, Ron. I can't stay here with you. I _have_ to get married today."

"You can't be serious," Ron repeated. Was the room spinning? Or was it just his world caving in on him? He couldn't be sure; he only knew that things had suddenly turned horribly, terribly _wrong_. He swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat as his dreams of the perfect little life with Hermione started to crumble, piece by piece.

"Hermione?" His heart pounded in anger and disbelief. She couldn't do that to him; she _wouldn't_ do that to him. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and tugged them on, nearly tripping in his haste as he rushed to her. "Look at me!"

Why wasn't she holding him, telling him she was only teasing, telling him that she was not going anywhere but back to bed with him? Why was she taking so long to answer him?

"I need you to understand, please," she whispered, as tears pooled in her eyes. "I have to go through with it. I have to."

No. No! Ron shook his head, absolutely horrified, trying to make sense of it all. "But you love _me_. Right? You don't love him, you love me. Isn't that what you said? You stayed with _me_ last night, we made love—"

"I know what we did and what we said! But I have to get married, Ron! There's no way around it!"

"Like hell you have to get married!" Ron shouted, exploding at last. "What is there to understand? If you love me, you won't do this!"

She was crying now and trying to turn away from him, but Ron seized her and forced her to face him. Everything he was inside had started to melt away to nothing, and he would not let her turn away from it, from what she was doing to him: killing him, poisoning him, destroying him, breaking his heart.

"Were you lying to me last night? Did you come here to get off one good time before you married that bastard?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No! No! You know that's not how it was—"

"Then call it off, Hermione! Call it off!"

"It's not that easy, Ron—"

"Are you out of your fucking mind? He doesn't deserve you, don't you see that? He doesn't respect you! What kind of a man would tell you you're ordinary? What kind of sick, controlling shit is that? Don't you understand that what you're making a mistake?"

"Stop it, Ron. Don't be like this—"

"End it with him, Hermione! Call it off. You must!"

"I wish I could, but I can't!"

"Why the hell not?" Ron roared. "You came here last night! You told me you loved me; you let me have you, didn't you? And now you're going to get married to some piece of rubbish? Is it because he's from a wealthy family and I'm not? Is that it? Is it because his job is more respectable?"

"No, it isn't like that! It's not. That's not it!"

Ron's frenzied thoughts spilt from his mouth like a torrent without restraint. "He must have you fucking Imperious'd, that's it. Or brainwashed! It's sick to see; I never thought you'd be the type to fall for such rot. You've gone mental. Well, I won't let you do this. I'll figure out a way to stop what he's doing, I'll—"

"I'm not brainwashed. I'm not mental. I'm not under the Imperious, either! Stop talking to me like that — just stop it!"

Each breath came hard for Ron, and he found the room spinning. He felt his way to his bed and sat on the edge of it, closing his eyes. He tried to shut off his mind so that his brain would stop hurting. He was losing grip. He pulled down hard his hair, trying to keep from hurling out further obscenities. Obscenities would not help him in this situation. After a few moments, when he had calmed himself slightly, he tried again: "So it was a mistake, was it? What you said to me? What we did?"

"I wanted you to know how I felt, but…the rest of it…it was a mistake."

"You're…a…_liar_."

Hermione shook her head, tears falling down her face, and dripping to the front of her torn dress. "I have to do it, Ron. It's too late for me to back out now…if you only knew how much money my parents have spent…all the people that are coming..."

"So we'll find a way to pay your parents back. All those people can get over it. Just don't do it. Don't marry him. Please, don't marry him." Ron chocked back a sob, his voice cracking. He got up from the bed and crossed the room, holding Hermione firmly by her shoulders, looking into her eyes desperately.

"I love you, Hermione. Don't do this to me, don't go, not like this. Please…Just tell me what I have to do to make you stay…"

But Hermione said nothing. She didn't even look at him. From her pained expression, Ron knew she'd already made her choice, and nothing he said now was going to change it. His heart fell; it dropped to some bottomless pit. But what surprised him more than that was the way the aching in his chest literally hurt him. She had broken him, snapped him in two.

_So this is what "nothing" feels like. _

He couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes now, and it disgusted him. He should never have let her come over last night. He should have known something like this would happen.

"Get out of my house," Ron said coldly, stepping back from her, away from a woman who obviously wanted to destroy him for reasons unknown to him — all he'd ever done was love her.

Hermione let out a pitiful moan, and went to put her arms around him, but Ron shoved her hands away angrily.

"Don't … touch me," he shouted at her. "Just get out, you fucking slag. Get out!"

Hermione's eyes widened with hurt for a moment, but he didn't care. She stubbornly raised her chin, though it trembled. "I love you, Ron. I'm sorry," Hermione whispered.

Ron turned from her, not even wanting to look at her anymore. He heard her hiccupping and sniffing. He knew she was just standing there, crying, but all he wanted was for her to leave.

"Ron, I don't want you to hate me…tell me you don't…"

Enough. It was enough. He walked to his window, yanking the blinds apart with unnecessary roughness, and stared out into the morning, as if something outside held more importance to him than what was in his bedroom.

"Get out, Hermione," he said, his voice startlingly calm and level. "I never want to see you again. You're a foul little witch and I wish you the worst in life. In fact, I wish you would…" Ron took a deep breath and turned his head slightly towards Hermione. "Just leave. Just get out, _Mrs_. _Colbert_."

Without another word, Hermione turned and fled from the room. When he heard the front door slam, Ron stumbled over to his bed, sinking into it, and pressed his face in the sheets, still able to smell her.

When tears threatened to fall, he did little to try and stop them — he let them soak his face and the sheets that he clutched tightly, as if trying to hold on to what had been so real just a few hours earlier but what was now as good as a dust.

Ron used the Floo Fone System to contact Grant Dixon, his Assistant Manager at the shop, to let him know that he was taking the day off. Grant made a small, unpleasant clicking sound in his throat. "But what shall I do about the interview this afternoon?"

"What interview?" Ron snapped as he poured himself a tall glass of Scotch.

"Er, the young lady interviewing for the accounting position? Do you want me to reschedule her?"

"Bloody hell, man — go ahead and interview her. Give her the job. Or don't, I don't give a damn," Ron yelled before he switched the Floo Fone off. "Git."

By six o'clock, Ron had drunk himself into a stupor and passed out in his bed.

"I didn't know one person could nearly finish off an entire bottle of Scotch. You learn something new every day," a voice was saying.

Ron's eyes opened slowly. It was dark in his room and his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. "Whos'n'ere?"

"Oh, he's still alive, ladies and gentlemen! Still alive!"

The voice belonged to Ginny, speaking as though she were an orator before an audience. She exhaled an impatient sigh before giving him the sort of look their mother would do when on the verge of being upset. With a casual flick of her wand, the small lamp beside Ron's bed flashed on.

"Ah!" Ron bellowed, wincing. He threw an arm over his eyes, but not before he saw that Ginny still wore her bridesmaid dress. From Hermione's wedding. "What are you doing here?"

Ginny crossed the room to the wretched heap that was her brother. She kicked off her heels and climbed into bed beside him and settled herself against the pillows.

"Merlin, these pillows feel hard as boulders," she said, making a face. She flicked her wand again until they became large and feathery, and then leaned back against them again, looking satisfied.

"Anyway, when Hermione missed her hair appointment, then came to the chapel late _and_ crying, I suspected something had happened. After _you_ neither came to the wedding _nor_ went in to work today, I put two and two together… well, apparently I was right."

"So. The wedding took place, did it?" Ron had been hoping beyond hope that it _hadn't_ , that Hermione had just skipped town and would call him to come meet her so that the two of them could work out some sort of arrangement to be together.

"Yes, of course it did. It was—"

"Don't tell me. I don't want to know. May Hermione and her new husband rot in Hades."

Ginny tugged affectionately at Ron's hair. Ginny knew him best of all their siblings, and though he would never admit it, he was glad that she came to see him. Right now, she was the only person he felt he could talk to. He hadn't realized until just now that he didn't want to be alone. The Scotch had turned out to be a lousy companion.

"Hermione came here last night, didn't she?" Ginny asked.

"I thought you already figured that one out?"

"Well, what happened?"

"It doesn't matter. Not now, anyway."

"Did you shag? You did, didn't you?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about shagging Hermione with you. I don't want to talk about Hermione with anyone — ever again."

Ginny sighed, clicking her teeth. "I tried getting you to admit the way you felt before all this happened. It was so obvious to everyone how you two—"

"I already feel like shite, and you're not making things any better, Ginny."

"I'm sorry," Ginny said. "Truly, I am. For the both of you, really. That was the saddest wedding I've ever seen, I think. Hermione was absolutely miserable today. She looked…well, almost robotic walking down the aisle. Her smile looked ... I dunno…Painted on? She just didn't seem…right. Even Harry noticed, and you know how thick he can be about matters of that sort. I know she didn't want to do it."

"_How_ do you know?" Ron said irritably, despite feeling a wave of selfish glee. Hermione had spent an hour crying? Good! It served her right.

"Because, you prat, I've known you lot long enough to know how you two have felt about each other over the years. She wouldn't even look me in the face."

Ron sighed. "Well, there's nothing else I can do, Ginny, except get over it."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, is there? It wasn't meant to be for us. It just wasn't meant to be."

Ginny leaned her head on Ron's chest, and they listened to the sounds coming from the flat below them, where the tenants sounded as though they were having some sort of wild party.

"Look at the pair of us, sitting around like a couple of sad sacks. We should join _them_," said Ginny, laughing.

Ron snorted. "I'd just end up causing total mayhem and get us thrown out, just for the hell of it."

"That'd be a laugh, at least."

"Yeah," Ron said. "But it wouldn't make Hermione any less married."


	4. Chapter 4 Secrets and Lies

**Chapter 4: Secrets and Lies **

Ron had never thought of himself as the type of fellow to have a broken heart, and he certainly never thought that Hermione would be the cause of it, but she was and he had one. Though he did all he could to keep Hermione off of his mind, nothing seemed to help ease the pain that had lodged inside of his heart's most secret chambers.

"She never loved me. She just came over to get one more shag in before she married, the slag. That's all she is," Ron muttered to himself, not really believing it, but saying it aloud just the same. Of course, he only said these words when he was alone. His love for her controlled him even after she'd rejected him, as he felt guilty each time foul words against her left his lips. He had no business calling her names, and he knew it. And if, on some level, she _was_ a slag, well, then he was one too. "I'm sorry," he would apologize to the wind. "You aren't that. I'm sorry."

Eventually he accepted that hating Hermione wasn't going to work. As desperate and pathetic as it was, Ron could not deny that all he wanted to do was see Hermione, just _talk_ to her; she who was probably on her honeymoon now, shagging her brains out while he was eating week old pot roast and drinking too much Scotch at night. He felt almost cursed with memories of her. Different moments replayed in his mind like some great movie wheel that turned and turned and would not stop—the day he met her; the way he used to watch her studying at Hogwarts, with her hair falling over her face; the sound of her laughter; the first time they'd kissed. The way he'd taken her against his bedroom wall.

There had been more than one morning where he'd woken clutching his pillow against him, his cock swollen and stiff, to realize once again that he'd only held Hermione close to him in a night fantasy, in what had only been a dream.

The dreams did not stop. They continued to torment him night after night after night. During the day, Ron did a double take each time he passed a long haired brunette on the street, his heart rushing at the thought of running into her- only, it was never _her_ that he ran into. The brunettes were just strangers. Everyone was just a stranger.

The following week, Ron met the new accountant whom Grant had hired.

"Ron. Ron Weasley. Welcome aboard." Ron shook the hand of a very pretty woman with a long, shiny sheet of blond hair.

"Lacey Bennet. And thank you," she said, smiling. "As a matter of fact, I used to work with your brother, Percy. At the Ministry." She paused, studying him. "You don't look that much like him."

"No, I don't. And we're nothing alike. He's always been the odd man out of our brood."

Lacey gave a small laugh and said, "That's right, he did mention having a a large family. I thought he was very kind."

"Was he? We tend to think of him mostly as the world's greatest git…" Ron muttered. He rubbed his weary eyes. He didn't want to be rude, but she was too full of cheer for him at the moment. He wanted to sulk and brood and be left alone, but Lacey didn't notice, and went on, "I'm looking forward to managing your accounts. Mr. Dixon showed me the office I'll be using. It's very nice. Very spacious."

Ron fought an impatient sigh, and managed to give her what he could only guess came across as a grimace. "Glad to hear you like it. We've needed a new accountant for ages. Hopefully you won't put too put off by the occasional 'product gone bad'. I'll have my brothers' heads the next time they send me a shipment of gadgets that haven't been thoroughly tested." He stood then, and grabbed a pile of papers, stacking them against the table, trying to look busy.

"It's no problem," Lacey continued. "I thought working here might be nice for a change. I used to get so bored at the Ministry, with everyone being so serious all the time. I know here, it won't be dull, to say the least."

"Oh, no, never a dull moment around here."

Lacey, who hadn't once stopped smiling up at him, finally made a small gesture towards her work area. "I'll just get started then."

_Good. You do that, _thought Ron, _and I'll go back to being depressed, _thought Ron.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Weasley," she said, and tossed her hair back in a move that reminded Ron of Fleur.

"Oh, you can call me Ron. We're not too formal around here. It _is_ a joke shop, after all."

"A very _successful_ joke shop, may I add. You can never be too formal when it comes to money, Mr. Weasley. Especially when it comes to someone else's money."

Ron watched her walk away, slightly amused.

"She's something, isn't she? Didn't break a sweat during the interview. As a matter of fact, she had _me_ sweating! Say, maybe one of us'll get lucky." Grant had walked up behind Ron, and Ron noticed with disdain the way his Assistant Manager was practically drooling. Grant then wiggled his eyebrows, expecting Ron to be just as foolishly excited as he was.

Only Ron was unimpressed, because he knew someone smarter and more beautiful. "She's all yours, mate," he said, clapping Grant gently on the back. He'd just seen a woman walk by with long, dark hair, reminding him of Hermione, though as usual, it wasn't, and his heart dropped to his feet.

Days and nights passed Ron by in a dizzy blur. He woke up, got dressed, went to work, forced on a smile as he interacted with customers, closed up shop, came home, ate leftovers, fell into bed. Over and over, the same damn cycle.

Early one morning, Lacey paused in front of him on her way to her office.

"Are you alright?" she asked Ron. She'd startled him; he'd been staring into space, bitterly trying to accept that Hermione was really was gone from his life for good.

He sat up straight. "I'm fine. Just trying to fight a bit of a head cold," he fibbed.

Ron usually paid no attention to Lacey as she breezed back and forth to her office each day. She always made a point of saying hello and telling him to have a good night when she left, but he barely glanced up from his work when she did. Today, however—with her standing before him, closer than one would normally stand to a co-worker—he couldn't deny that she looked awfully nice, wearing a deep blue dress that brought out the color of her own dark blue eyes. Her high, glossy ponytail swished with every move she made.

She smiled at him—something he was beginning to realize she did quite often-and said, "Well, seeing as how you told me things were a bit informal around here, I can tell you firsthand that I've found head colds to be alleviated rather quickly with hot tea followed by a shot of whiskey. But if anyone asks, you didn't get that from me."

"Whiskey and hot tea…that's a new one…" Ron said. And though he didn't have a head cold, it was something he was definitely interested in trying the next time he did. He looked at Lacey and chuckled.

"What? Don't think I look the type to take whiskey?" she asked playfully.

"As a matter of fact, you don't," said Ron.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?" she teased, rolling her eyes. They laughed together as Ron shrugged his shoulders at her remark. _Blimey, it's good to laugh, _Ron thought. Then Lacey reached out and gently touched his arm. "Really, you should try it. You'll be good as new by morning," she said, and bent to pick up her work bag. She walked off towards her office, her long ponytail bouncing behind her. The man in him couldn't help but notice it wasn't the only thing bouncing.

Just before she reached her office door, she looked back at Ron, giving him yet another little smile. Ron turned quickly from her, embarrassed to have been caught still looking. He shook his head, and got up from the chair where he was sitting. What was he doing? Getting jollies because another woman was giving him a little attention? He wasn't interested in other women. Besides, it was time to open up the shop; he could already see customers waiting to get in.

Work was busy the next few days, which wasn't a bad thing, because it took his mind off of his aching heart. Towards the end of the week, Lacey brought Ron a small blue bag.

"You're still dragging yourself around! This is for your cold. I hope it helps," she told him.

At home, Ron opened the bag to find a small bottle of whiskey and a box of peppermint tea wrapped eloquently in white tissue paper. There was a little handwritten note that read: _Here is a little treat_ _because it's always more fun to work for bosses that are happy. Also, I like your smile. I hope you feel better soon! Your "informal" accountant, Lacey_

He tossed her note and the tea into the rubbish bin, poured the whiskey over some ice and called it a night.

That Friday, Ron sat alone in his flat, feeling sorry for himself, when there came a light tapping at his front door. He hadn't been expecting anyone, but for a second, he thought it might be Lacey, though he didn't know how in the world she'd found his address. Still, he felt slightly more cheerful as he went to open the door.

It was Hermione.

All thoughts of Lacey immediately vanished. He gulped quickly, hardly believing his eyes. Just the sight of her caused a roaring fire in his heart. How she'd been on his mind all the time these past few weeks after her wedding! How he'd longed for her to be before him, and now that she was, all he felt was frozen. He wasn't sure whether to slam the door in her face or kiss her, so he just stood there, breathing heavily as his heart pounded in his chest.

"May I come in?" she asked him softly, her brows knitted with caution. Ron's heart now hurled itself against his ribcage, desperately trying to get to her, but he caught hold of it, swallowing it back down. He tried to be a man and stand behind his words.

"I told you I never wanted to see you again," he said stiffly. The words came out of his mouth and dissolved into thin air, like vapor, signifying nothing in the end. He was just a fake; a phony. He wasn't so tough, not when it came to her.

Hermione, who didn't know that just yet, dropped her head, nodding.

"Right," she said softly. "You did. I'm sorry. I'll go, then." She turned from him, looking crestfallen.

"Wait…" Ron said softly. Hermione stopped and turned, looking back up at him hopefully. When he didn't say anything more, she came back up the steps one at a time. He could see that she was just as scared as he was. He stood back slightly—just pretending he could have cared less—to let her inside.

And then she was back in his world, back where she'd left him almost a month ago, a day he'd replayed in his mind a thousand times. Ron closed the door to his flat, and leaned against it, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with Hermione, but unable to help himself. She looked so beautiful and so sad. Well, hell, _he_ was sad.

Hermione bit her lower lip, and he nearly stopped breathing as she took slow, deliberate steps towards him, just as she had done outside. What would she do? He just might shatter if she touched him. He'd had no contact whatsoever with her in a month, yet it seemed like only yesterday when they had laid together the first time. He had been missing that feeling. God, had he missed it. He wanted to run to her. Didn't he? She was trembling, which he could see clearly. It made two of them.

"I'm just…I'm so…it's…" she tried, but her words to him came up unfinished as he watched her eyes brim with tears. Ron knew better than to try and speak. If he attempted to say a word now, nothing intelligible would come out. His attempt at communication would be worse than hers.

Hermione had moved so close that she was directly under him, gazing up at him like he was the last man in the world. He had known all his life that she was the only woman in his. He saw her swallow, and then she closed her eyes, and pressed herself against him, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. He felt her hands clutch his back. Ron knew she could hear how fast his heart was beating, but still she held him, with her head pressed against his chest for what seemed like an eternity. Her hair smelled of vanilla, a scent that had never held much meaning to him before, yet now intoxicated him.

She stood on tiptoe, reaching up to put her arms around his neck, holding him even closer. He didn't want to disturb what was happening, whatever was happening. It might only be a dream. He might utter a word and have everything vanish, the way things had so many other times when he'd dreamed of her and woken up weak and alone.

_Please, God, let this be real. Let it be true, let her be here with me_ he prayed silently. And as the prayer left his cerebral dwelling and drifted to the heavens, all of his emotional walls against her crumbled; he dropped his guard, and knew he was now defenseless. He thought for just a split second that he might push her away from him, only he didn't. He couldn't. He closed his eyes, and circled his arms around her slender waist, feeling complete once more. She was here with him. He could feel her breath, shallow and frightened, against his neck.

Neither of them spoke, they just held each other close, against the door, for a long time, until Hermione had stopped trembling. And then Ron's hands found her soft cheek, and he was tilting her face up, kissing her, though not as hungrily as he had the last time; this time, it was slower, gentler. No words were necessary. He picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, Hermione clinging to him as if he were the rock keeping her from being washed out to sea.

Once in his bedroom, they left the lights off, feeling each other in the dark. They knelt together on his bed, and Ron raised his arms as Hermione pulled his sweater over his head. He leaned in towards her, kissing her again, more urgently as he felt her hands opening the rest of his clothes. His tee shirt came off next, and he let it fall to the floor. Just the feel of her fingertips dancing over his skin caused that familiar throb in his loins. He was aching to be inside of her, aching to love her.

"Hermione," he whispered to her. "I just—"

"Shhh…not yet…please…" she silenced him. He nodded, understanding her need for silence. _Don't talk, let's just feel._ Talking would come later, after he made her come. He drew in a deep breath as he watched her run graceful fingers over the smooth muscle of his hard chest, and over the bulge of his arms. In one smooth motion, she eased her own shirt off, and Ron drew in another breath at how lovely she looked in her light blue lace bra, with her breasts pushed up, rising and falling with her heavy breathing.

He grabbed her against him, tugging her down onto his bed, and kissed her hard, letting his hands roam over her body. She was soft in all the right places, and he felt heat burning strong and hot inside of him as he rubbed her in the place he so desperately wanted to be right now. He slid his hands up to the waist of her jeans, popping open the button and pulling them down to her knees. She wiggled out of them, kicking them off and then to the floor. Her fingers clutched at his belt buckle, and then she was pushing his pants down firmly. He twisted his way out of them, adding them to the other clothes that had collected on the floor by the bed.

Hermione wrapped her leg around him, pinning him to her, their bodies pressed very tightly against each other. They were not without the last articles of clothing; their undergarments were still stopping Ron from being with her the way he wanted, and he wasn't going to stand for it too much longer. He reached behind her back, fumbling the clasp of her bra apart, and slid the thin straps down her shoulders, pulling the flimsy material off. He ran his hands over her now naked breasts, cupping the silky cream colored skin in his hands, feeling the hardness of her nipples, and lowered his mouth to them, running his tongue over them. He licked her, feeling animalistic as he hovered over her, wanting to own every fiber of her being, the way she owned his. He leaned heavily against her, loving the way it felt to finally have her underneath him again. She whimpered with pleasure, clutching him even more tightly against her. But he broke free, and kneeled over her. He ran his large hands slowly over her, admiring every curve of her belly and hips. His stiff cock was throbbing, as he felt nearly delirious with his desire to be inside of her, but there was more he needed to do first, before he entered her. He leaned over her, and pressed his mouth against her smooth, delicately scented belly, licking here, nipping there, until his mouth had reached the waistband of her panties. He gripped the sheer material in between his teeth, and pulled down.

"Ron…" Hermione sighed, reaching down to twist his hair in her fingers. She rolled her body out of her knickers, and then was naked before him. The sight of her uncovered body sent a shiver down his spine.

"Oh, I do love you. I must," she whispered to him, her eyes drifting closed just before he slid down between her legs, and parted her legs slowly as he began to kiss her inner thighs. He pressed his mouth against her thighs in an upward trail until his nose touched the soft hair of that which he was dying for. Hermione's breathing was labored now, her hands growing more firm as they twirled his hair around in her fingers. Little moans erupted from her, and her body trembled slightly with what he figured was anticipation. He made his move, taking several long, hard strokes with his tongue against the wet heat between her legs. She gasped, and her legs fell open even wider. He let his tongue trace its own path to that little place she was no longer hiding from him. He sucked her, firm yet gentle, with repeated motions. She gave a soft squeal as she began to move against his mouth, and he kept pleasuring her, wanting nothing but for her to feel as good as he could make her. The taste of her was driving him wild with desire, but he was going to make sure he gave her everything he could. He wanted to make sure Robert did not creep into her mind once tonight. He wanted her not to regret coming to him, for this was where she belonged.

She came into his mouth, and he tasted her, swallowing her, until she lay shuddering and crumpling his sheets with her fists. He rose slowly, marveling at how sensual she looked with her head turned to the side, her long hair spread out on either side of her. Her eyes were still shut, her breathing shallow. Her body was damp; she'd broken into a light sweat.

_Not as much as she's _going_ to sweat. _

He leaned slowly over her, kissing her neck, licking her ear and throat like an animal. His cock was going mad in protest, wanting its turn for release too. Hermione turned towards him, and pulled her down on top of her.

"I need you, Ron. Right now," she breathed urgently, and pushed down his boxer shorts. He helped her, shoving them further down until Hermione was able to hook her toes into the thin material of his shorts and drag them down with her feet, all the way off of him. He closed his mouth over hers, loving the way she opened her legs to him again, bringing her thighs up high around his waist. She clasped her ankles behind him, positioning her body, ready for him.

"Please…" she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed.

Without another word, he reached down to guide himself into her, and pushed firmly, going deep. They both groaned at the feel of their connection. Somewhere, an electric current exploded inside Ron. He pulled out and shoved his cock all the way inside again, giving it all to her, all he had. Hermione clutched his shoulders as she arched against him, taking him deeper still. He pressed his face against her damp neck, losing himself in her. He reached down and gripped her hips with his hands, pulling her into a hard, pounding rhythm. He drove into her, exhilarated by Hermione's moans at every thrust.

It didn't take long for him to give her second orgasm of the night, her breasts pressed tight against his chest as she allowed him to drive into her to his total liking. He wanted it hard, punishing almost, for marrying Robert and not him, for leaving him that day. For the heartbreak she had caused. He was going to fuck her in a way that she would never forget, in a way that would bring her back to him, no matter where she was or what she was doing through her days without him. He wanted her to always know how it was when they were with each other. He wanted her to be reminded of right now, as she lay almost sobbing in total ecstasy underneath him, her arms and legs curled around him, holding him as close as possible to her.

_Take that, Robert. Take that. She loves only me, don't you see? _

And with a grunt, Ron felt himself release into her. He let his weight rest fully over her body, and he pressed his face against hers, his fingers still gripping her hair. She kept her legs clasped around him, her breathing sounding like a lullaby in his ear.

"How could you be like this? With anyone but me?" he whispered to her. He felt foolish at tears that burned his eyes suddenly; the thought of Hermione sharing such an experience with another man was one he could not bear. It made him feel as if he was dying.

Hermione's fingers caressed his cheek lightly. "Don't think it's like this with anyone else. It's never been," she whispered. She wiped his eyes dry with her delicate thumbs, and he nodded, believing her, as the same was true for him also. He settled on his side, looking into her eyes.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered to her.

"I've missed you even more. I just want you to know that you're all I think about, every day. All day. All night."

"Don't say that. You haven't been thinking about me."

"I have! I swear to you, on my life I have been! Oh, Ron, if you only knew how these past few weeks have been absolute torture for me. I just couldn't stop thinking about how horrible everything's turned out. Everything is wrong. And when you said…you said those things to me—"

"I didn't mean it, Hermione."

"Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Because all I wanted was to die, to think that you never wanted to see me again." Her words caught in her throat as she looked at him, her eyes wide and full of hurt.

"Forget what I said," Ron told her quickly, "I'm an arse and I didn't mean it, any of it. I take it all back."

He supposed that now there was no point to covering up their feelings, or making excuses for wanting to be close anymore. The affair had begun.

"Where is he? Your…I mean…Robert?" Ron asked her. She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

"On a business trip. He won't be back until Monday."

"Will you stay?"

"If you'll have me, I will."

"Of course I'll have you."

"Ron. I-I never wanted things to turn out this way," she said, shaking her head.

"I don't care, I'm just glad you're here now," Ron said.

Then Hermione started to cry. "I've made a horrible mistake. And look, this is all I do these days! I cry at home…at work…"

He kissed her damp eyelashes, and pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. "Why, Hermione? Why did you do it? Why didn't you just stay with me?"

"Oh, I don't know! If I'd had the courage to come sooner, a week earlier, a few days even...but I just couldn't end it the day of. I was too embarrassed to know what to say to him, to everyone…and I would have humiliated my parents. Robert's sister never really warmed up to me. She would have hexed me into next year—"

"Hermione, this is all my fault. I should have told you a long time ago about how I felt. I should have just told you and not been afraid."

"I could have said something too. I kept thinking of ways to tell you, but I was always too scared to go through with it. Using the pictures as an excuse to see you before the wedding was the only thing I could think of, and I almost backed out then, I was so nervous. The thing is, Ginny told me once…that you….but I couldn't believe her. I needed you to say something, anything. And when you never did, I just assumed there was someone else or that Ginny had been mistaken."

"There's never been anyone else. I never thought you felt the same for me. I talked myself out of thinking that for so many years. I wish I'd just come out and said it—"

"It doesn't matter now."

"No, it doesn't. We're here, together."

"Yes, we are. And now I'm a whore," Hermione whispered sadly.

"No," Ron said firmly. He tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. "Never. You're not like that. You could never be that. We love each other. That makes it alright."

"Nothing makes being unfaithful alright," she answered, her eyes filling with tears once again.

"Hermione, I love you. You love me. It is what it is."

"And what's that? What have we done?"

"I don't know, but I can't lose you again. I won't."

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand. "You know Robert would kill me if he found out."

Ron felt a rush of anger. He clenched his teeth as he answered, "I swear to God, if he does anything to hurt you, ever, even if he looks at you wrong, I'll tear him to pieces."

"Ron, darling, don't…" Hermione cooed, pulling him back down next to her. She kissed his mouth softly. "Don't talk that way, please. I can't bear it to hear you say such things."

"I'm sorry, my love." Ron kissed her nose.

"Give me some time to fix this, Ron. Will you?"

"Yes. I'll be here for you. I'll wait for you forever."

"He can't find out about this. I have to make a clean break."

Ron felt his stomach turn at her words, but, assured her again, "We'll work this out. Robert won't find out."

Hermione leaned into him, saying nothing.

_Of course we're wrong, _Ron thought._ But it feels right…too right to stop. _

The affair started out light as rainfall and became as strong as a hurricane. Ron and Hermione found ways to see each other, even if it was for a few minutes. Robert traveled a lot for work and every time he went out of town, Hermione came to Ron's flat. A few times, he came to hers.

"No, Ron, not in the bed," Hermione murmured as Ron kissed her. "We mustn't…It isn't right."

"It'll never be right as long as you're married to him and not me," Ron said just before he slid into her.

Things were going well at first; Ron made believe he was satisfied seeing Hermione here and there, and pretended not to mind times when she canceled meeting with him because she was afraid Robert was catching on to what they were doing. He pretended he didn't mind when she made sure they were standing a fair distance apart, shying away from his touches if they were out in public pretending to be coworkers on a coffee break or some other nonsense excuse they made to see each other.

But as time went on, and Hermione seemed to be no closer to ending her marriage, Ron became impatient and irritated. It was hard having to keep things a secret-there were times when he wanted to see Hermione after work, just to talk to her, but couldn't. There were times when he wanted to send an owl to her house to let her know he was thinking about her. He couldn't. There were times he wanted to walk down the streets of London holding her hand, there were times he wanted to spend the night with her or have her spend the night with him without one of them having to rush away before Robert got home.

Ron hated to admit it, but there was no denying that sometimes he was frustrated and angry with her. She shouldn't have gotten married to Robert in the first place, and now he was on the back burner, always waiting for her. Waiting for her to send an owl, waiting for her meet him in the darkness, waiting for her to choose.

It made things no easier that Lacey was someone that Ron saw every day, and was obviously interested in him. She found excuses to be near him, asked him questions that he knew she knew the answer to.

"Did you see the memo about the shipment for the Ticklish Parchment? I wasn't sure if you did." Knowing good and well that she'd left the memo on his desk before they'd closed up the night before.

"I didn't know if you liked those blood puddings from Madam Puddifoot's, but I bought an extra one for you just in case you did." Knowing good and well she'd seen him scraping the last of Madam Puddifoot's blood puddings with his fingers, making sure he got every bit.

Still, Lacey was very pretty, and he couldn't help but start to wonder whether or not he should respond to her flirtations, if for no other reason than to show Hermione that she didn't have control over his heart that much. Even if she did.

One evening, Ron and Bill met up at Harry and Ginny's house for a late dinner. Fleur, who was almost nine months pregnant now, had stayed home with swollen ankles and feet.

"She's done great so far, you know. She says she's too big to leave the house, but she looks wonderful to me. It's getting to be near the end. We're hoping for a girl this time," Bill was saying.

"I couldn't go the whole pregnancy and not know," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"Element of surprise…you gotta love it. Speaking of surprises, you haven't talked about Hermione recently," Bill said, turning suddenly towards Ron. "Have you finally got over her, then?"

Ron, who hadn't expected this direct inquiry about his feelings for Hermione, almost choked on his pork chop. "Er…I mean, I know she's…er…married and all. I've accepted it, you know?" he said, shoving a large piece of meat into his mouth to stall for time in regards to any further questions concerning Hermione.

"Yeah. I know you used to be crazy about her…but you know, things happen for a reason," Bill said.

_Like hell, they do. _

"Right. I hear she's doing well, though," Ron said curtly. Ginny glanced at him, and he knew in an instant that she knew he was having an affair with Hermione. Bill didn't catch the look, and grinned.

"You know when I came to the shop the other day to buy those Stay Long Colored Bath Bubbles?" Bill continued.

"Yep," Ron said, and felt himself start to sweat. He hoped that Bill would drop the subject of Hermione soon, as he could feel himself growing more and more uncomfortable which meant that he would start being less able to cover up what the two of them were doing. In his bed. In hers. In his shower. Twice in the back of his father's old Muggle car.

_Stop it, you dumb fuck. Think of something else, anything else! _

"Your accountant…Casey, no, Lacey, I think her name was—" Ron internally breathed a sigh of relief as Bill went on—"She was going on and on about you. 'Your brother's so smart'. 'Your brother's so good with the customers.' 'I'm surprised your brother's not married yet.' It was obvious she really fancied you. She's not bad looking. You should ask her out," Bill said. He held a string bean high over his opened mouth, then let it drop onto his wriggling tongue.

Ron refrained from calling his brother an animal. Bill was still sensitive about his bites. Instead he said, "Yeah, I might do that. We'll see."

As he was leaving to return home, he avoided Ginny's questioning looks. He hoped that she wouldn't confront him because he didn't know how to lie well, and especially not to the person who could read him as if he was an open book. And even then, the words on his pages would only read, 'I love Hermione, no matter what happens' over and over.


	5. Chapter 5 Three's a Crowd

_A/N: If the idea of cheating offends you, please stop reading! It's just a story, folks, and I'll pull it together in the end. _

Chapter 5: Three's a Crowd

Tonight was a night that Ron thought he'd be spending with Hermione (Robert was out of town for work again), but instead of being able to hold her, all he'd get to hold was a note sent by owl just minutes before he'd left work, saying that she couldn't come because Robert's sister and mother had made an unexpected visit.

_I'm sorry! Don't be upset, I'll see you as soon as I can. All my love, H. _

Of course, it did make Ron upset. He was getting tired of all the secrecy and lies. He crumbled the note from her and shoved it in his pocket. The tiny messenger owl looked quizzically at him, no doubt waiting for him to attach his response to its leg. "Tell her I said to piss off," he grumbled to the owl. The owl hooted softly, not moving. Angrily, Ron shooed it away with his hands, sending feathers flying. "Get out of here, you little git, I haven't got anything to send back!" he shouted. The owl disappeared into the night with a screech.

Ron stormed out to the front of his store and stopped short at the sight of Lacey. He watched her furtively as she pulled on her coat, ready to leave for the evening. He had a quick flashback of Bill's words to him a few evenings ago.

"Where're you headed?" he asked her before he knew what he was saying.

Lacey paused in surprise. "Well, home to eat leftover ham and potatoes, I suppose. It looks like rain," she answered.

Ron let out a playful snort. "That sounds boring. Let's get some beers at The One Eyed Goblin. My treat," he said.

"Oh! Yes, I'd love to. Right now?" Lacey gushed, her cheeks turning pink.

"Sure," Ron said. Now she laughed, and he ignored the tiny feeling that he was doing something wrong as he grinned back at her.

"If this is a date, I'd like to change out of my work clothes—"

"It's a date. Your work clothes look fine. You're pretty enough to get away with wearing anything, even rags," Ron interrupted.

It was pathetic, what he was doing. But Lacey was now looking absolutely radiant. He couldn't back out now.

_Serves you right, Hermione. You should have found a way to come see me,_ he thought furiously as he pulled the door to his store closed and performed a quick locking spell. Lacy stood waiting for him with a big grin on her face, and he pushed the uncomfortable lump that had formed in his chest back down. He was going out tonight with Lacey, and that was all there was to it, Hermione be damned.

Ron and Lacey took the night trolley across town to the lively bar (where Ron had actually not been in months) and made small, polite conversation the whole way. He was surprised to see a line outside, but figured that since it was the end of the work week, people were ready to let loose. Two house elves were standing near the entrance holding up pulsating signs that read: _**Marvel and the Makeshift Mummies! In town for one night only! Playing all their number 1 hits! **_

"Oooh! The Makeshift Mummies! No wonder it's crowded here tonight!" Lacey squealed, taking Ron's arm. Ron wasn't really into their kind of music, but he tried to play along with Lacey's excitement as they waited their turn to get inside. Lacey chattered on breathlessly, but Ron could barely hear her once they'd gone in. The Makeshift Mummies were going wild on their humongous guitars, rags swinging madly as they played. Marvel crooned into his microphone as couples swarmed the dance floor. Everyone looked as if they were having the time of their lives to Ron. Shit, he could pretend to be one of them.

As he helped to pull Lacey through the crowd towards some empty tables he'd spotted in the back, he looked boldly into the eyes of everyone, hoping that at least one person here would recognize him (being part of the infamous Voldemort trio and all) and would go gossiping back to the Ministry that he'd been spotted out on a date with a pretty blond. He _wanted_ to be seen. He _wanted_ the news to reach Hermione's ears.

"Here you are. I'll get us something," he practically had to shout into Lacey's ear. He held a chair out for her to sit down in. Even in the darkened bar, he could see her blush furiously as she took her seat.

Ron wrestled his way through the heavy sea of people as he made his way back to the bar for drinks. He fought a fierce battle inside the entire way. _She needs to know what it feels like. Doesn't she? I haven't done anything wrong. I mean, sure Lacey and I are here, but it's just drinks. It doesn't mean I'm in a relationship with her. Hermione should have come to see me. She keeps promising. It's wrong of her. It's wrong of me. Stop it, Ron. Just forget about Hermione for one damn night. _

So Ron chatted up strangers as he waited on the two beers he'd ordered for himself and Lacey. When two women flirted with him—some rubbish about his eyes or hair or something—he flirted back. He even paid their tab as he picked up the two bottles of butterbeer he'd ordered and headed back to the small table in the back of the Goblin, where Lacey was waiting for him.

"Thank you," she said as he set a beer down in front of her.

"You're very welcome," he said.

Lacey took a dainty sip of her beer, and leaned close to him. "I've got a confession to make. D'you want to hear it?" she asked him with a laugh. Ron took a large gulp of his beer, swallowed it, nodding. He had an idea he knew what she was going to say…

"You've no _idea_ how long I've been waiting for you to ask me out!" she squealed, slapping his arm playfully. "I mean, I've been trying to get you to do it for _ages!_ The first time I met you, I was just _amazed_. I mean, Percy was fit enough, but I wasn't expecting you to be so bloody good looking! You're absolutely gorgeous, Ron. You've got the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen."

_Well, damn, there it is. Can't say I'm surprised, the way she's always grinning at me and bending to pick up things when I'm around. _Ron thought.

"You've got gorgeous eyes as well," was all he could say to her.

She laughed, tossing her hair back. "I hate that this was so sudden. I wish I could have worn something other than this frumpy old work dress. I've got a couple things in my closet I think you'd _really_ like," she went on, tilting her head against her hand and looking deeply into his eyes.

"Er, what you've got on is fine. Really. You look nice," Ron said, and tried giving her a reassuring smile. She swiped at him again, laughing, and he could tell she was really enjoying herself. All he could do was wonder what Hermione would think if she could see him now. Would she be jealous? Sad? Depressed? Angry? All the things he was when he thought of her with Robert?

"Alright, alright. No more being a lady with the beer!" Lacey said suddenly. She held her bottle back, draining it all in almost one swallow. Ron didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified. Lacey laughed again, and covered her mouth over what must have been a belch. The music was so loud, Ron couldn't tell.

"Don't look so shocked! You must know after the whiskey and tea that I'm a drinking girl," she said. Ron shrugged, then followed her lead and drained his own beer.

_Fuck it_. _May as well enjoy myself. _

"I'll get us something really fun to drink this time!" Lacey jumped up from the table and disappeared before Ron could utter a sound. He watched her go, and didn't know what the hell to think. Half of him said to make a run for it before things got out of hand. The other half wondered how many of Hermione's coworkers were actually here. He doubted that anyone from the Law Department would be drinking and dancing the night away at the Goblin. So maybe this was all for nothing…

"Here you are. Hell's Whiskey!" Lacey was back with two tall shot glasses of liquid. Tiny, ghost like faces floated throughout the glasses. Hell's Whiskey was the strongest liquor available in most bars; it was so potent, in fact, that many bars didn't even offer it. There had been stories some time ago, about witches and wizards ending up in ditches with wings instead of arms, three eyes instead of two, and other atrocities that had been the result of the drink that Lacey had slammed down before him. Ron almost wanted to tell her no, maybe next time, when she grabbed her own glass and said, "On the count of three!"

Ron, who was now caught without a proper excuse picked up his glass. She screeched with laughter when the little ghosts in the glass started getting uglier and larger. Ron was actually a little afraid to drink it, but of course he couldn't let Lacey know that. Besides, she'd started her count down. "One….two…THREE!"

_Here goes nothing,_ Ron thought as he followed Lacey's lead turned his glass up. There was an immediate and truly awful sensation of having scalding hot poison forced down his throat. He would have gagged had he not wanted to make a fool of himself, as Lacey was now laughing with glee. She wasn't lying when she'd referred to herself as a "drinking girl"; Ron didn't know that much about Lacey, but he could see clearly that she _must_ be used to drinking—a lot— to down Hell's Whiskey the way she just had.

She grabbed his hand, and shouted to him, "Let's dance!"

"No, wait, I don't think—"

"Rubbish! Come on, you!" she said, pulling him out of his seat.

"Are you any good?" Ron had to shout back over the sudden eruption of wild cheers and claps as the band broke into another wild, fast song that caused a sudden swell of people to rush to the floor.

"Come and find out!" Lacey was now tugging him out onto the dance floor, and there was no more sense in saying anything between the noise from the band and the frenzy of witches and wizards who were crashing into each other to get closer to the stage.

Lacey, as it turned out, was a good dancer, which made them a fine match, because so was he. By the second song, Lacey had hurled her arms around his neck and was pressing her body against Ron's from head to toe, giving him a pretty good idea of what she could do in a horizontal position by the way she moved against him. And thanks to Hell's Whiskey, Ron soon lost count of how many songs they danced to. His head was spinning. Barely able to remember his own name, he came to grips with the fact that he was absolutely shit faced drunk.

After God only knew how much time had passed, the lights in the bar came on and there was a collective groan and a few wolf whistles heard from the crowd. Party time was over. It was time for everyone to leave, and Ron was glad that at least some of the alcohol had begun to wear off.

"We should walk…Well, _I_ should, the way my thighs have been looking lately…but you wouldn't want me to walk by myself, would you? Come on, my flat's not far from here," Lacey said with a hiccup. She staggered a little on the street, grabbing Ron's arm suddenly to keep from toppling over. He steadied her before letting go and scratching his head.

"Uh, okay. I'll walk you back."

Lacey reached for Ron as they started off down the street, humming happily. Her fingers felt stiff in his hand. He thought she was pretty, yes, but he felt nothing for her. He wanted to be holding Hermione's hand right now, walking down the street with _her_.

At Lacey's front door, Ron stopped at the bottom step, feeling awkward.

"Well, goodnight then. I had fun," he told her. Lacey was looking up at him and smiling. She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, and leaned in close to him, kissing him firmly on the mouth. Unable to help himself, he once again thought of Hermione, what she would say if she could see this other woman kissing him. It was stupid, he knew, because she was probably doing a lot worse on a daily basis with her husband. Still, his thoughts about her kept attacking him. Hermione was there, every time he blinked, everywhere he moved.

"I'm sorry. Was that too forward?" Lacey asked. Ron bit his lip, realizing he had not kissed her back.

"No! No, it was nice…"

She kissed him again, and this time he did give in and kiss her back. He thought blatantly about Hermione as he did so—the sound of her laughter, the way she fed him from her fork when he cooked for her, the way she pulled him against her when they made love…

"Do you want to come in?" Lacey was asking him.

Ron was not ready to go to bed with another woman. "Oh...er…you know…things might get awkward at work…if we…"

"Oh," she said, looking disappointed. "Right…well…goodnight, then. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Yes, of course. Goodnight."

Ron's mind was racing as he started back down the steps. What was wrong with him? His brothers would have taken the mickey out of him if they could see what he'd just done! Lacey was a catch. She was pretty and smart. What was he doing, waiting around for Hermione to sneak into bed with him only to go running back to Robert before the sun rose? Maybe she didn't even really love him. Maybe she just liked having two men at once. Maybe it thrilled her, and she was laughing at him behind his back, thinking him a love sick git, a sucker.

Ron turned and went back to Lacey's front door.

"Awkward's got you curious, has it?" she teased when she'd opened the door.

"I'm sure we'll be able to keep things professional," Ron said, stepping inside. His heart screamed at him that he was making a mistake, he would never love Lacey, she would just end up getting hurt. He silenced it by grabbing Lacey towards him, kissing her hard on the mouth with a grunt and kicking her door closed with his foot.

A few days later, Lacey was perched on the check out counter in front of Ron, flirtatiously ruffling his hair and giggling at everything he said when the bell to the shop door chimed. It shocked the shit out of him to look up and see Hermione. Ron froze on the spot as he saw her, but Lacey, thinking Hermione was a customer, gave her a once over and said, "We're closed for lunch hour."

"Are you?" Hermione retorted. Her eyes flickered from Lacey back to Ron, her mouth set in a thin line.

Ron felt as if he'd just taken a shot of Hell's Whiskey as he sputtered an explanation. "Oh, no, it's okay. Lacey…um…this is Hermione Gr- I mean Colbert. She and I were in the same year at Hogwarts. I've told you about her before…"

"No, you haven't….Ohhh! The one that was part of the Voldemort gang! Yes, I remember, now. I have heard quite a lot about you!" Lacey said, sliding off the counter and extending her hand.

Hermione took it tentatively. "Pleasure," she said icily. Ron avoided eye contact with both of the women,, though he was not completely sure why he felt ashamed. True, he was now in the presence of two women he had slept with, and recently; but it wasn't as if he was cheating on Hermione. He'd even managed to talk his way out of a full blown commitment to Lacey. Still, there was something inside of him that felt strange, and guilty. Several awkward, silent moments passed as Lacey now looked from him to Hermione, who was visibly upset.

Finally, Lacey, frowning slightly, motioned to her office, saying slowly, "Well…I…I guess I'll leave you two to talk. I've got to finish some paperwork myself. Just let me know if you need anything, Ron." She hesitated, then leaned forward and quickly kissed Ron on the cheek, as if marking her territory.

Her kiss felt more like a curse, one that turned Ron into a stone man, unable to move or speak. He stared at the floor as Lacey said casually to Hermione, "It was nice meeting you, Hermina."

"It's _Hermione_. And same to you," Hermione said sweetly. Ron and Hermione both watched Lacey walk away and as soon as she had, Hermione whirled on Ron, her eyes flashing with something between hurt and fury. "I'm sorry to interrupt your little tête-à-tête. Next time I'll just schedule an appointment so your tarts know when you'll be busy," she hissed in a low, vicious voice at Ron as soon as Lacey was out of earshot.

"You didn't…I mean…we were just talking," Ron stammered. He was on the verge of being sick to his stomach. He hadn't talked to Hermione since her last owl, when she'd said she couldn't meet him. He hadn't talked to her since he'd spent the night with Lacey.

"From the looks of it, you two have been doing a lot more than just talking!" Hermione fumed.

"She has a thing for me. It's nothing at all, I don't care about her. I care about you," Ron said softly.

"Does she know that?"

"How could she know it? I can't tell anyone about you and me."

Hermione's face turned red; she had gone from looking angry to looking tearful. "I just stopped by to see you. It's been hard for me to get away. I've thought about you for days, but I see that you've found someone else to occupy your time. I shouldn't have come."

"Hermione–"

_Ron, you're slime. Lacey's crazy about you, and listen at yourself, dismissing her for a married woman…._

But he didn't care. He knew exactly who his heart belonged to, and it wasn't Lacey. "I'm so happy to see you. She means nothing to me, please believe me. Here, let's talk in my office," he said, now taking her arm. She pulled away from him.

"Don't. She's watching us. I have to go."

"Please, stay," Ron pleaded. Hermione backed towards the door.

"I can't. I've got to go," she repeated, and with that, turned on her heel and rushed from the shop before Ron could say another word.


	6. Chapter 6 Atonement

Chapter 6: Atonement

When Ron woke up with a racing heart and sweating forehead for the third time in one week, he knew that the affair had finally started to drive him quite mad. It was too much, avoiding commitment to Lacey yet not able to have such a thing with Hermione. He mulled over what to do for a few days, and then decided to go to the one person (besides his sister) who might be able to give him the best advice- unbiased, raw, the truth- exactly as he needed to hear it. So on a night when he knew that Ginny would be out until late practicing for her Quidditch Regionals, he went to speak with Harry.

"I've got to talk to you. Now," Ron said as Harry opened the door.

"What's the matter? What's happened?" Harry asked, looking alarmed. Ron charged into the house and went straight to the kitchen, sitting down roughly at one of the chairs around the table.

"Look, if I tell you something, will you swear not to repeat it? Not even to Ginny?" Ron said, looking as serious as he could.

Harry seemed even more baffled. "You're asking me to keep something from my wife? What the hell is going on—"

"I'm having an affair," Ron blurted out. "With Hermione. Then by accident I started up something with another woman, but I don't love her, I only did it to make Hermione jealous. Now the other woman wants to be exclusive and I think Hermione might suspect something and now I don't know what the fuck to do. I've started having these dreams…nightmares, actually…I feel like I'm losing my bloody mind!" He dropped his head with a bang onto the table and waited to be berated by Harry, as he deserved.

"I would've thought you'd learned your lesson about using other women to make Hermione jealous. Don't you remember how that backfired on you before, back at Hogwarts?" Harry replied. Ron didn't lift his head, but heard Harry chuckle.

Clearing his throat, Harry said calmly, "Sorry, Ron, couldn't resist that one. Anyway, we already knew. About you and Hermione, I mean. Actually, Ginny called it first. We were both really surprised that Hermione would actually have an affair—"

Ron's head jerked up from the table. "Wait a second, how did you know? How did my sister know?"

Harry shrugged. "She just always seemed suspicious of it. She knew that Hermione had gone to see you the day before her wedding. I think we were just kind of expecting Hermione to call her wedding off after that, but for some reason, she didn't. Anyone could have told her that she and Robert weren't going to work out. You've met him, he's a wanker."

"Fuck…" Ron said, astonished. He really thought they'd done a good job at keeping everything a secret. Harry and Ginny had been paying more attention than he'd realized. It alarmed him to think that maybe even more people than just his best friend and his sister had caught on.

"Then there was that time I caught Hermione sending an owl out late. You know I work on the top floor of the Ministry, and she must have thought everyone had gone. I thought it was sketchy that she'd send a late owl from work, and not from home. It scared the pants off of her when I asked her what she was doing."

"And what did she say?"

"She said the owl was going to her mother, some rubbish about wanting to know how to make lemon tarts. But like I said, it was late and that excuse didn't make any sense, especially not coming from Hermione. I knew she wasn't telling me the truth. And once, she was over here and…well…"

"What?"

"She said something or other about you and how women were always chasing you around. I mentioned that Bill was trying to set you up with some girl at work and Hermione got, well, upset over it. She started asking all these questions about it, and then she got agitated with us when we didn't give her enough information, I guess, and she left in a huff."

Ron pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, rubbing them, and let out a sigh. "What should I do, mate?"

"Ron." Harry shook his head before he continued. "It won't be easy to hear this, but, you've got to break it off with her."

They both knew whom he meant. For awhile, all Ron could do was sit quietly in his seat. Finally, he said, "I know I've got to. I know I do. Everything's gone too far. We're both wrong, we're both doing things that we shouldn't be doing. Sometimes I wish I could just stop loving her, but I can't. Believe me, I've tried."

"I understand all that, but she's married. Not engaged, not just dating some bloke, _married_. Eventually, you'll be found out. Somebody could get hurt behind what you two are doing, or even killed. You can't keep it up with her. If she won't finish it with Robert, you'll have to finish it with her. And as for the other girl…if you don't love her, you need to let her know that. Don't lead her on, Ron. That's not right, especially if she's a nice girl."

"She _is_ a nice girl. It would help if I could just feel _something_ for her…that'd make everything easier," Ron said sadly.

"It would. It sure would. But who ever said that love was easy?"

Ron, in response, let his head slam back down on the table.

A few days after his talk with Harry, Ron paced nervously back and forth across his living room, waiting for Hermione to arrive at his flat. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say, but he knew he needed to say something about their situation. They needed to have a talk. They _had_ to.

At the sound of her knocking on his door, he very nearly jumped out of his skin. He yanked open the door, barely allowing her to get inside when he sputtered, "We can't keep doing this. It's wrong, it's just wrong."

Hermione drew a deep breath, and released it, looking almost frightened. "I understand that you're frustrated. I'm trying to make a clean break. I'm honestly trying—"

"You've been saying that for months. How long is it going to take you to just leave him? Haven't you ever thought that maybe I'd like to hold your hand in front of others? Kiss you in public? Go out on a proper date, instead of always sneaking around?"

"Of course I've thought about it. I'm trying to handle things the best way I can, Ron."

"I don't think you're trying hard enough."

"I am! I tell him that I'm unhappy with him and he just dismisses me and locks himself in his study. We've barely even spoken to each other in weeks. I just haven't had time to fully explain anything because-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Hermione, were you in Gryffindor or weren't you? You can stand against Voldemort with Harry and I, but you can't walk away from a marriage to a man you don't love? Unless maybe you _do_ love him-"

"No! No, you know that's not true, Ron." Hermione reached for Ron, touching his face gently, but he avoided her gaze. "Ron?" she whispered. "Why won't you look at me? What's happened? There's something you're not telling me."

"It was never supposed to be like this, not with us," he muttered. "I just feel like filth. And you should too."

Hermione withdrew from Ron suddenly, as if she'd been stung. "Do you think I don't? Do you honestly think I enjoy what I'm doing? Because if that's what you think, that I like this, that this is even _me_…well, it's not! It's _not_ me! I'm not this way. You know that, don't you?"

Ron knew in his heart that she wasn't, but something in him just couldn't speak in her defense. Hermione cleared her throat, then asked, "Is…is there someone else?"

Now he looked at her, shocked that she had come to that conclusion of all things. He'd been hoping to avoid the subject of Lacey altogether; in fact, he'd planned on ending everything with Lacey for good before Hermione had found out what he'd done. He supposed it was too late now, as Hermione's cheeks had turned blotchy all of the sudden, as if she had come down with a fever.

Ron closed his eyes and sighed sadly. "I don't know…I don't know…maybe…"

"Maybe?" Hermione repeated softly. "Who is she?"

"It's nobody special…" Ron muttered, turning from her.

"You tell me who!" Hermione squeaked, grabbing his arm with surprising strength and pulling him back around.

_Just tell her the truth, it's time for everyone to just start telling the bloody truth…_

"She's just someone who works for me. My new accountant. You…er…you actually did meet her that day you came to the shop. And…and it's no big deal, we've only been out a few times."

Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh. "No big deal? Only been out a few times? Well, it certainly didn't take you long, did it?"

"It's not like that—"

"Have you shagged her?" she asked harshly. Ron felt an uncomfortable tightness form in his throat, and at the same time, something in him wilted, leaving him feeling deflated as an old balloon.

"Have you or haven't you, Ron?" she repeated angrily. "Ron? Ron!"

"Yes, I have, okay? For Merlin's sake," he yelled, raising his eyes to hers.

Hermione shook her head as she gasped, "But…but she doesn't even _know_ you! And you've…already? A few dates are enough for that little tart, I see!"

Her eyes burned into his. "I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said simply.

Hermione, in response, burst into tears.

"Don't, please…it meant nothing…" he started, feeling like the world's worst human being. Feeling like a heap of dung. He shouldn't have done it. He should have kept walking that night instead of turning back around. Yet inside of his heart was also that small place where he felt justified by sleeping with Lacey. That small place found a voice, and defended itself.

"The whole time, all I could do was think about you, feeling guilty as hell! How fair is that to me or her?" Ron heard himself saying out loud.

Hermione cried even harder, clutching her sides. She threw herself down on his couch, doubling over, shaking, as desperate sounding sobs racked through her body.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't do it to hurt you. Or maybe I did, I don't know. I don't know what to do! It's no different from what you're doing!"

"It _is_ different! Robert and I don't have sex! He hardly looks at me, let alone touches me! He's always working, and even when he isn't, he's not interested in intimacy!" Hermione practically shouted through her tears.

Ron, though taken aback by this confession, still felt the need to defend himself further. "Yes, well, at least I can be with Lacey in public!"

"Oh, really? Out in public with her, for all the world to see how happy the two of you are? That's just wonderful, Ron. As if we're not complicated enough…and now you go and start dating and _shagging_ another woman…" Hermione wept. "How could you do it? How could you touch her, how could you kiss her? What about me? What about us?"

Ron went and knelt on the floor by Hermione's knees, trying to see her face underneath her long hair. She would not look at him. In a strained voice, he whispered, "That's just it, my darling. There isn't an _us_."

His heart ached in his chest. Was she being selfish? A little bit? Was he being foolish? Would there ever be a happy ending for the two of them? The longer things dragged out between them, the more people seemed to be involved, and the more people seemed likely to be hurt. He wasn't used to all this emotion. It was wearing on him. All he'd ever wanted was to be in Robert's shoes, married to the girl he'd loved forever and a day. How did it all end up this way, so complex?

"Please, don't cry. It breaks my heart," Ron said softly.

"You don't love me anymore. Just admit that you don't. You don't…" Hermione breathed, shaking her head.

"You know that's not true. That's why all of this is so frustrating, because I can't be with you the way I want!" Ron said, his voice cracking.

Hermione suddenly pushed him away and got up from the couch. She walked back and forth in front of him, shaking her head, talking softly as if he weren't in the room.

"It hurts me so much to know that you've gone and been with someone else…but it's not right for me to feel that way. Why shouldn't you be able to be with another woman, especially a pretty one who's single? What am I to you? What's happened to me? I don't even know myself anymore…"

She stopped, and looked out the window at the cloudless sky. When she spoke, it was as if she was a million miles away. "You're right. You're right, Ron. This isn't fair. It's gotten too complicated. Me and Robert, and now you and _her_—"

"There is no me and her," Ron said, going to Hermione. He reached for her, but she kept her head down, hiccupping back more tears.

"I've got to go, Ron. I can't…I've got to go…"

She made a move towards the door, but Ron blocked her way. "Wait—"

"Ron, please, let _go_," Hermione said, aggressively jerking her arm free.

"Hermione, will you wait one bloody second —"

But before he could say or do anything else, Hermione Disapparated to a place he knew he could not follow.

Later that night, Ron lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, barely able to move, except to occasionally chew on his fingernails. It was a habit he hadn't had in years, but recently, he'd been biting almost every nail down to the quick. He mustered up the strength to roll onto his side and sighed, feeling like a dead man. He supposed he ought to feel relieved that at least the affair was over; Hermione had seemed to suggest that the two of them were done. And anyway, he couldn't ask her to clarify because she was married and he most certainly would not be welcome to question her at her house with her husband hanging about.

Her husband.

Robert. The one she had chosen over him, and that's what hurt him the most. Oh, she had made a choice that next morning after she'd made her confession. And it hadn't been in his favor.

He rolled back onto his pillow and tried to decide whether or not he had the vigor in him to get his arse up and out to bed for a drink, when suddenly, there was the soft sound of an owl hooting at his window.

"What the bloody hell—" he muttered, sitting up and lifting the shade. He was surprised to see Ginny's pretty tawny colored owl, Athena, perched on his windowsill, a small scroll attached to her leg. Ron opened the window and removed the small note. He grabbed a knut and tossed it to Athena, who took it in her beak and flew back out into the humid night.

Ron flicked his wand to turn on the lights in his room and unrolled the letter. He recognized Hermione's handwriting on sight, and as he started to read her letter, his hands trembled.

_Ron,_

_I've left Robert. We had a frank discussion when he got home from work. I told him I wasn't in love with him and that I wanted a divorce. It's done now, it's over. I am staying with Harry and Ginny temporarily until I find a flat of my own. I also have to find another job, as I am going to turn in my letter of resignation to the Law Department at the Ministry in the morning. I expect Robert to make my work environment unpleasant and awkward, and I can't bear to be the root of gossip. But more than that, I've made a mess of my life and it's time I cleared things up. I need to start over. Over these past few months, I've never wished more that I could go back to the time when all of us were in school, back when I was just an overzealous and insecure girl desperately in love with her best friend: I was just an ordinary girl who always did the right thing, or made a conscious effort to. I'm not sure how things have ended up with me always being the wrong. _

_I know many people would think ill of my actions. I think ill of them myself. But do you know I would have been able to forget about __anyone__ else the day I walked down that aisle, but you, Ron, never left my heart? And in my heart, I never, not even for one second, denied my feelings for you. I have always loved you. I want you to know that._

_It hurt me terribly to know that you moved on, but I understand why you did and I accept it. I was just too late. To be honest, I'm surprised you held on for me as long as you did. I knew it would only be a matter of time before everything crumbled to pieces and you would find someone else who was free to be with you. I'm not angry with you at all. You are the best man that I could ever know and you deserve happiness. It's perfectly alright if you've fallen in love with her. I'm sure she feels the same about you. Why wouldn't she? I deserve to be alone for what I've done and I have accepted that as well. _

_I am so very sorry, Ron, for everything I've dragged you into. All I can do is ask your forgiveness and hold on to the hope that you and I can at least be friends, if not now, than maybe one day in the future. _

_Love From, _

_Hermione_

With the last written word, Ron's heart began to beat again. He left the note on his bed and Disapparated at once.

Ginny opened the door, a stern look on her face.

"How is she?" Ron asked nervously, his throat dry.

Ginny sighed and let Ron in. "I hate that this has happened to her, Ron. We all knew that marriage was a farce from the beginning. I'm not sorry that's it's over, to tell you the truth. There was always something about Robert that bothered me. And his family's dreadful—"

"Ginny, if he tries to come after her, I'll kill him."

"Calm down, Ron. He hasn't tried to come here, that's for sure. I wouldn't let him in even if he did. Hermione's been a wreck since she got here. In fact, I would tell you that now's not the best time for company, but it's not as if she's been upstairs resting. She's been crying all day and she refuses to eat. She's convinced you despise her."

"I need to see her, Gin," Ron said, wringing his hands.

"I'm not here to stop you. I care for you both. Go to her."

"Thanks, Gin. Harry alright?"

"Harry's got a wrackspurt, so he's gone to bed early. I'm going now too. Ron," Ginny said, looking intently at him. "Just…be careful," she said. She stood on tiptoe and kissed Ron on the cheek. He nodded, understanding what she meant, and then took the steps two at a time.

He stood outside the door where he knew Hermione was, and for a second, felt a wave of panic. What if she didn't want to see him? What if he shouldn't have come? Yet before he knew what he was doing, he raised his hand and knocked on the door before opening it slowly.

"Hermione?"

Hermione, who had been curled up in bed, sat up suddenly as Ron called her name.

"Ron!" she gasped, her hands flying up to her face to wipe her wet eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Ron closed the door behind him. "I-I came because of the…I mean, I got your letter," he said quietly. "Thank you. For writing it."

Hermione looked away from him. "You didn't have to come."

"I know I didn't." He paused. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. I told you, I'm fine."

And they fell into silence, Ron never taking his eyes from her as she twisted and untwisted the sheet around her lap. Her hair was wild and beautiful around her shoulders. The straps of her nightgown had slipped down over her shoulders. He even noticed the lone tear that dropped down her cheek and splashed to the back of her hand.

Ron took a step towards her. "I wish there was something I could do to make it better."

Hermione looked ready to cry again, but instead she drew a deep breath and forced a small smile. "I helped you and Harry take down Voldemort, remember? I'll be fine. I'll get a new job and I'm going looking for my own place tomorrow—"

"Don't do that. Stay with me."

"Ron, no. No, I won't. I won't live with you. Things are different now. I explained everything to you in the letter. I don't need you to pity me or take care of me. I want you to be happy. I mean it."

"I can't be happy without you."

"You can. It's perfectly alright to be with whomever you want. You mustn't feel obligated to be with me because I've left Robert. I needed to do that anyway."

"Hermione—"

Hermione closed her eyes and choked back a sob. "Ron, please, stop this! You're only making it worse!"

Ron went slowly to her, and put a hand on her back softly. She gulped several time before whispering, "I've made a mess of everything. Can't you see that? I've lost you and it's what I deserve. I've accepted it. I own up to what I've done."

"I'm _not_ lost to you. Don't _you_ see that?" Ron said softly. He kicked off his trainers and climbed into the bed beside her. Her face was flushed, her lashes stuck together from her tears, and the sight of her swollen lips made him want more than ever to kiss her. Instead, he smoothed her hair back and left his fingers tangled in her hair. "Hermione," he said in a hushed voice, "I'm your man. I want to be with you until the day I die."

"Why? Why would you want such a thing as that?" she whispered.

"You know why. You _know_ why."

Then he pulled her against him, as close as he could. She held him back, and the two of them clung together, holding each other so tightly they could scarcely breathe. "I can't stop loving you, no matter what...I can't stop…" he whispered into her hair.

"Me, neither," she whispered fiercely. She let out a shuddering sigh. "Me, neither!"

They stayed pressed close together for a long time, until finally, Hermione broke free. She kissed him on the mouth, gently, and leaned her head against his, wiping her eyes. "What about her? The other girl?"

"Don't worry about her. I'll finish it. That was never anything serious."

"I feel so awful. She's going to be upset, I'm sure of it."

"She's not for me. She was never for me, just as Robert was never for you. Hermione, I don't want to talk about her or him. I just want to be with you…and hold you. I don't ever want to let you go."

"Ron…Ron…Don't let me go…" Hermione murmured. She pressed her face into his neck, nestling her body against his, and soon fell asleep there, in the crook of his arm.

Ron stayed close to Hermione, drifting in and out of sleep, his dreams strange, intense, and, most curiously, about Azkaban.


	7. Chapter 7 A Lover's Revenge

Chapter 7: A Lover's Revenge

Ron awoke to find a small flower and an elaborately folded letter hovering above the place where Hermione had slept. As he reached for the letter, it helped him by unwrapping itself. The flower then vanished at his touch, leaving Ron, as usual, quite impressed by the little details Hermione put into things.

_Ron, _

_Good morning. I hope you slept well. You looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake you. I've gone to take care of some things. I'll be back at Harry and Ginny's later. I will send an owl when I return. _

_Love from, Hermione_

_P.S. Thank you for staying. _

She felt awkward about the two of them, he could tell from her note. He didn't need to witness her writing the letter to know that she had paused for some time after the _P.S.,_ not knowing what was appropriate or inappropriate. She had tried to keep things neutral. Ron himself did not care to be neutral, not after last night. He felt they'd said everything they needed to say to each other; they'd done all they needed to do to make things work between them…

Well, almost. He still had to break it off with Lacey. Whom he worked with. He looked over at the clock and saw that he would be hard pressed to get to work on time. With a sigh, he forced himself up quickly. Best to get it over and done with.

_I'll take her to lunch, and tell her everything then_, he thought as he shoved his feet into his trainers and went downstairs.

"Well, I didn't hear any headboards creaking, but you're still here, so I guess things went well," Ginny said. She had just tightened the lace of her right Quidditch uniform boot, and now stood upright, scooping her long hair up into a high ponytail.

"As if I'd allow you to hold that over my head…shagging in your house. All we did was talk, really," Ron said. He noticed some rolls on the table that must have been leftover from breakfast and helped himself to three of them.

"Don't rush her into anything, Ron. I'm not saying she loved Robert, but she's been acting out of sorts since the night she went to your flat. I think this whole thing has got her all confused," Ginny said, and then pointing to the food he had grabbed, added, "I was saving those, Ron."

"For Merlin's sake, you talk as if I've forced Hermione into something! I just said, all we did was talk! You turn more into Mum every day!" Ron said grumpily. He swallowed half of the second roll. "…those are really _good_…"

"I've got to get to practice. Are you alright?" Ginny asked him.

"I've got to break up with Lacey as soon as possible. That should be loads of fun," he replied.

"I won't even comment on _that_. Owl me if you need me. I guess I'll be seeing you later on, then." They walked together to the fireplace, both of them traveling by Floo Network.

Before Ginny entered the Network, she turned to Ron. "I'm happy you're together with her. But remember that sometimes, people don't take the end of a relationship so well. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Please, be careful."

"I'm not worried about Lacey," Ron said.

"I wasn't talking about Lacey," Ginny said. She stepped into the fireplace, and disappeared.

Ron grabbed a handful of green powder and threw it into the fireplace. He wasn't really worried about Robert. Robert didn't hold a candle to him as far as weight or height. Ron was fully confident he could flatten Robert in seconds, no wand necessary, if it even came to that. Besides, he had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment, and that was all he thought of as he hurtled through the Floo Network towards his flat to get ready for work.

Ron dressed in a hurry, cursing to himself as he realized that he would have to go the entire workday before breaking up with Lacey. He hadn't had time to do it in the morning, and breaking it off with her during the lunch hour was just cruel.

Since he'd arrived late, the shop was in full swing by the time he'd arrived. He'd owled Grant to let him know he'd be coming late, and could tell Grant was relieved when he'd finally walked in.

"Got loads of complainers today. Getting downright _sick_ of them myself…ready to hex this old bag in the orange jumper," Grant hissed to Ron under his breath. There were several irritated customers in line, waiting for their turn to be heard. Some of them were holding what looked like gag gifts gone wrong. Ron could see at least three wizards clutching broken No Cook Cauldrons.

"Shite, I thought I told George those things didn't last," Ron swore. He turned to Grant with a shrug and said cheerfully, "I'll take it from here. Thanks for opening up for me. Alright, who's first?"

At the sound of his raised voice, he saw Lacey peek out from her office and give him her biggest, brightest smile. He could tell she wanted to come over, but couldn't at the moment. She had always been very careful not to let on that they were seeing each other. Ron smiled back at her at platonically as he could, feeling even more guilty at what he was going to have to do.

The work day proved to be so busy that Lacey did not find time to corner Ron and smother him with kisses, as she usually did when things slowed down a bit. He was grateful for it, but also anxious, because it was all just adding fuel to the fire he was going to have to douse out.

Finally, the last customer left with a big bag of practical joke gifts.

"Well, what pandemonium those Pygmy Puffs created when that chubby little bugger broke the cage! My head's been searing ever since!" Grant said, rubbing his temples. "Good night to all of you, I've got to get home and get some sleep!"

He disappeared to the back to get his things, still muttering to himself about the Pygmy Puffs.

As soon as he'd gone, Lacey grabbed Ron to her in a tight hug. "What kept you this morning? I was getting worried!"

Ron stiffened, and drew in his breath. "Lacey, listen. I've…We need to talk," he said firmly. No point in prolonging the inevitable. He hated doing this. She had been so excited to be with him, and he honestly did like her. He just didn't love her.

Lacey pulled away, looking alarmed. "What do you mean, talk? About what?"

Ron glanced around, clearing his throat. Some other employees were still within earshot, helping to clean up before closing. "Not here, Lacey. We'll talk later, tonight—"

"No. Absolutely not. Right now. Are you about to ditch me?" Lacey asked him, her voice going up an octave.

Ron took Lacey's elbow and led her to his office, which he closed firmly once they'd gotten inside. When he'd turned back to face Lacey, he could see she was breathing hard; she looked as ferocious as a Death Eater.

"_Well_?" she demanded angrily.

"Let's go to dinner, what do you say to that?"

"Stop changing the subject, you wanker! Tell me the bloody truth!"

Ron shook his head, not knowing where to begin. "Okay. The truth is that I do like you. A lot -"

Here, Lacey snorted and rolled her eyes.

"–and I think you're beautiful and smart and fun. You'll make a perfect girlfriend to, er, someone else. I…this isn't going to work between us. We can't see each other anymore. I mean, we can, as friends, but not, you know, as we were."

"Unbelievable! You selfish, cold hearted, troll! You fucking prick! You used me!" Lacey screeched, pointing an accusing finger at him. He was sure that everyone still at work was now listening. He should have used the Muffliato charm. As it was, he would probably have to Apparate home from his office to avoid the embarrassment of what was becoming quite the spectacle.

"No, I didn't. I never meant…I never wanted to hurt you. I just love someone else, it's that simple. And I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"That's a load of bollocks, and you know it. How dare you, how dare you try that shite with me, Ron! Is it Hermina? The one you _swore_ was just your friend?"

"Er, it's complicated, it's more than—"

"It _is_ her! I knew it the day she came here acting like a first class bitch when she saw the two of us together!"

"Please, Lacey, keep your voice down—"

"Isn't she married? What a fucking slag. Both of you are fucking slags!" And before Ron could move a muscle, Lacey had whipped out her wand, and had it aimed directly at Ron.

"What the hell-What are you _doing_?" he asked her, shocked.

"You won't make _me_ cry," Lacey said to him in a cold, determined voice.

Before he could reply, she screamed at him, "_Flipendo_!"

Ron flew backwards and crashed to the floor, completely stunned. He blinked several times as he suddenly found himself staring up at the ceiling, then at the angry face of Lacey. She pointed her wand at him again.

"Stop! Grant, get in here, she's gone mad!" Ron shouted just as Lacey cried out shrilly, "Furnunculus! Furnunculus! _**Furnunculus**_!"

Ron let out a cry of pain as he felt a burning sensation creeping over his face, neck and arms. As he looked at his arms, he saw with horror that they had broken out into hideous boils. They were spreading fast. His hands flew up to touch his face. Boils. Hot, burning, stinking boils.

Lacey, giving him a smug and satisfied look, added insult to injury by spitting down at him as he lay on the floor, the horrible boils filling the inside of his cheeks and ears.

"I quit. And may you have a fucking _wonderful_ evening, Mr. Weasley," she sniffed, and turned on her heel and walked out as if she'd just collected a pay check or asked him what the time was.

Ron began to panic as his eyes closed shut against his will. "You foul little witch! Grant! Where the hell are you? Arrrgghh, my eyes!"

"Bloody hell, Ron… we all heard the shouting, what is Merlin's name-oh, hell, what's she done to you?" Grant was saying.

By this time, Ron could neither talk nor see. His boils had started to itch, and some of them had burst. A putrid odor filled the room as the larger wounds popped.

"Shite, I've never in my life…we've got to get you to St. Mungo's right away! Come on, mate, up you go," Grant said, and Ron felt himself tugged up. He was sure that Grant was not touching him, that Grant was relying on magic to help lift Ron's body. He was starting to gag as boils began to burst and spill their burning juices down his throat.

"We'll apparate, here, just take my arm, there you go, careful, don't drip it on me," Grant said. Ron wanted to shout at him that he couldn't help it, but he was in too much pain. To think that he'd only just told Ginny that he wasn't worried about Lacey reacting badly. He could only imagine what might have happened to him if the relationship had been more serious.

As soon as Ron and Grant arrived at St. Mungo's, Ron felt himself whisked away for what he heard someone say "immediate spell reversal".

He felt a sharp pinch near his wrist and within seconds found himself feeling extremely woozy. He hoped the doctors were able to clear up his skin without leaving scars. It would be a damn shame if he had to walk around the rest of his life looking like a gargoyle…

Ron's eyes opened slowly, his breathing calm and steady. He saw Ginny, Harry and his mother sitting by his bed. And suddenly, he bolted upright in bed, grabbing at his face.

"Bloody hell, have I—", he started. He looked at his arms. Nothing but smooth, freckled skin. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mum stopped me from hexing the life out of Lacey for what she did. She could have really hurt you," Ginny said angrily.

"Bollocks. It was just a couple of boils," Ron said, and lay back down. "Look, I'm good as new."

He just wanted to forget about Lacey. He wasn't going to shout or be angry about her hex on him, and he certainly didn't want his sister involved. He started to grin at everyone when he noticed that Ginny's eyes were bloodshot.

"Ginny? It's really alright. I'm fine," Ron said. "Harry, Mum, tell her, it's not worth crying about—"

"Ron. Darling," his mother started, and her tears spilled over. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

A roaring sounded suddenly in Ron's ears. "W-what do you mean, bad news? What's happened? What's going on?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other, then down at the ground.

"It's Hermione. Ron, she's here. She's…she's not doing so well," his mother said in a strained voice. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

"What happened? Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!" Ron shouted.

"Apparently, Hermione went back to her flat to get the rest of her things. Robert was there waiting on her. They got into an argument, and he…he attacked her. It was bad, Ron. They don't know if she'll come around. I'm sorry, darling," his mother whispered.

Ron threw back his blankets and leapt from the bed. "Robert's a dead man. Where's my wand?"

"He's already been taken to Azakaban. They're holding him there until they get more information. He was trying to leave London, but they caught him," Ginny said, grabbing the front of Ron's shirt. "She'd owled me before she went. She told me to check on her if she wasn't back at our place by supper. I had a bad feeling and I went early, and I found her, just laying there." She was crying now, and hugged Ron, wailing into his chest.

"I have to see her. Where is she?" he said, stepping back from his sister. He couldn't do this right now, wouldn't.

"Let me ring one of the nurses and have them check to see if it's okay for you to get out of bed -"

"I don't need a bloody nurse! Either tell me where she is, or I'll find her myself," Ron said, already storming to the door.

"Wait, Ron. I'll take you," Harry said. "I'll take you to her."

The room where Hermione lay was quiet, and dark. She looked so peaceful, there in the hospital bed. Her face was bruised only slightly above her left eye, but as Ron looked closer, he saw her throat, which was covered with ugly, purple welts. The same markings were on both of her wrists. Robert had really, honestly tried to kill her. Had he used his hands to do it? Or a spell of some sort?

Ron pulled a chair up beside Hermione's bed, and grabbed her hand. "I should have been there to protect you…dammit, I should've been there! I'll never forgive myself if…if…" he whispered to her. "Never."

He was shaking all over, so much so he knew that if he tried to stand, his legs would betray him and he would end up on the floor. Ron had never felt more terrified in his life. This was the only woman he'd ever loved, lying in a hospital bed, broken, seeing nothing around her, hearing nothing. Not knowing that Ron was right beside her; perhaps beside her too late.

"You can't do this, not here, not now," Ron told her fiercely. "We have a life to live together. Give me the chance to marry you, and we'll have children, lots of them, all running about. We'll raise them up to be strong and brave and read books like you and curse when they oughtn't to, like me. We've got to do that, we've got to have that life. I want to sleep beside you every night and see your face when I come home at the end of each day. I need that. I have to have that. Damn you, you pull through! You must!"

He leaned down, touching her face. "I wish you would smile at me. Won't you, Hermione? Just open your eyes, my darling, won't you? Please…" he begged her, and then he could speak no more, for his throat grew tight.

"Hermione…" he whispered to her, giving her shoulders a small shake.

And he lay across her, hugging her tightly, and wept.

_A/N: I actually wrote this story years ago and forgot about it. I found my old zip drive and uploaded what I had to this site. There's only one more chapter left and I know how it's going to end in my head, the problem is writing it out. I'll work on it dutifully and try to get this story finished as soon as possible! _


	8. Chapter 8 Through the Looking Glass

_**A/N: I want to say thank you to all the loyal readers of this story. It was one I was so very proud of when I started it in 2007, but it got a lot of negative reviews when it was uploaded to another site, so I gave up on it. Lo and behold, this story found me and then you all found me and kept asking for updates. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to finish this. I hope this final chapter makes it worth the wait! XOXOX to all of you who hung in there! **_

Chapter 8:Through the Looking Glass…and Back Again

As Ron swallowed in gulps of air, his fingers clenched around the blankets on Hermione's bed, it came to him, suddenly, like a firebolt. There was hope in this miracle of a plan he had just come up with. It was risky, and it put the job of the one person he needed most on the line, but he had to try. Right now, in almost the middle of the night. He had little time. It wouldn't work if Hermione passed away.

"I've got to go," Ron told Hermione, who didn't stir or give any indication that she heard him. It didn't matter. "I'm going to make things right. So help me by the gods, I'm going to make everything right or be damned." And he raced back towards the door, shouting Harry Potter's name as loudly as he could.

* * *

"Because it's you and Hermione, I'll do it," Harry said quietly. "But dammit, Ron, you've got to be careful as hell. You'll have one hour exactly. It won't go further than a few months for you, seven at the most, without a security charm going off. The security charm going off means my arse on the line. Do what you have to do without disturbing anything else when you go back. If any trace of this gets out, I'm out of a job. And Ginny and I are trying for a baby—"

Ron clutched the Time Turner in his hand. "I know, I know. D'you think I would do anything to mess you and my sister up?"

Harry wiped sweat from him brow. "Hurry. Before it's too late. I can't stand in the Sphere with you. Set the date now and go. When you've fixed things, you'll be back here. I'll keep the door locked until you give me the signal by Wand."

Ron nodded. He twisted the dial at the top of the golden Time Turner, and closed his eyes as the room began to spin….

* * *

He set the Turner for January 23. He wished it could've been a year, but as Harry had told him, the Turner wouldn't go beyond a few months, and he wasn't even supposed to be using it. He could afford no mistakes. Hermione had told him that night that she'd needed more time; if five months wouldn't get it, nothing would. He hoped it was enough time to stop her before she made the biggest mistake of her—_their_- lives. In his haste, he'd forgotten to set the exact time of his travel, so it was eight o'clock in the morning instead of eight o'clock at night, when he knew she'd be at her flat. No matter. He was already entering the Ministry, asking for Hermione Granger.

"I'm sorry, I don't seem to have an appointment for you," the receptionist behind the glass told Ron, peering at him from over her glasses. "She is usually very busy in the mornings. If you'd like, I can take a message and have her contact you after her meetings. She has three—"

Ron thought about Hermione in the present, unconscious. "I'm Ronald Weasley. I was with her and Harry Potter when we defeated Voldemort. It doesn't matter if I'm in the books or not. She'll see me. It's urgent."

She looked at him and sighed. "I'll let her know you're on your way up, since you insist, but I'm warning you, you might be turned away."

"I'll take that chance," he said, and barged through the door once he had been buzzed in, and half ran to Room 374. Her office.

Right outside, he paused, his heart beating rapidly. He knew…he knew so much…what would happen if he didn't make this work…he pressed his ear against the door, and hearing no voices from inside, opened it.

She was just taking her hand from the Floo Fone on her desk. "Nancy told me you were on your way," she said, standing up. She smiled, her cheeks beginning to flush. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? This is unexpected-"

His took a step towards her, his heart pounding. It was now or never. He couldn't tell her everything, but he would try to say the right words this time.

"You're…so lovely," he whispered. Everything was in perfect order in her office. Her hair was tucked neatly into a bun, all her papers stacked precisely on her desk. She ran a hand nervously over her throat.

"Did you come here to tell me I'm lovely?" she said with a laugh. She crossed the room and reached out to hug him quickly. "What's wrong?"

His arms tightened around her, hugging her close, too close for what this meeting was supposed to be about. He could smell the shampoo in her hair, the perfume on her neck. She stood still against him, even after the embrace was over. Her eyes searched his curiously, her hands going back to his shoulders. "Ron? What is it?"

"It…it's _me_. It's you. It's you and me," he said softly. He was going to lose her if he didn't get this right. He had less than forty minutes before things would go back to the way they were. She was perfect, she was looking at him, watching and waiting. He dropped his face to his hand, fighting the tears that stung his eyes. How could he stay here? With her, here? Happy and whole? What words would make her confess that she did love him?

"Ronald!" she said sharply, and then her arms were back around him. "Talk to me, please! What is it?"

He choked back a sob, taking a deep breath. "You said…you told me once…you didn't have the courage…and now I must have it, or…it's all over," he said into her hair.

She held his face in her hands, and her eyes were gentle, open. "Shhhh…darling…shh, it's alright," she whispered. "Whatever it is…whatever you need, whatever is hurting you, just tell me. You're my best friend in the world!"

"Don't marry him. You can't. I can't live knowing you belong to someone else," he blurted out to her. "You belong with me. With _me_."

The room went completely still.

Her fingers there against his face, his arms around her, their faces inches apart. Tears fell from his eyes. "I love you. I don't want to lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone, ever."

"I don't understand. Where is this coming from?" Hermione whispered back. "Why are you telling me this now, with my wedding coming up in May?"

"Hermione, don't you see? Don't you know I've always wanted you? Since we were at Hogwarts, I've wanted you? D'you mean to tell me you didn't know it?"

Hermione blinked, shaking her head. "I…I…never thought…you never asked me on a date…you never asked me _anything_, except to borrow my notes or use a quill! You never-"

"I was scared! I didn't want you to say no. I was a coward! But the love was always there. It always was. And now, I'm here to tell you before you make a mistake. I love you, and I want you to call it off and be with me. I own Wheezes, I can get you anything you want—"

"Ron, I don't care in the least about that," Hermione interrupted. She swallowed, and looked into his eyes. The Time Turner was growing hot in his pocket.

"Hermione, who do you love? If it's him, then, I'll go-"

"No," she whispered.

He was running out of time. How had it passed so quickly? She had to say it. She had to say it and he had to hear it.

"This has been one of the craziest mornings of my life," she said softly, and gave a half laugh, half sob.

"I need to hear it. The truth, Hermione," Ron said.

"Yes! I do love you! Of course I love you, I've always loved you, and I feel the exact same way, that I'm making a mistake! But, Ron—"

He laughed, interrupting her, hugging her again. She'd confessed it, but they weren't out of the woods just yet. "Run away with me. Give him back his bloody fucking ring and we'll disappear together. We'll go to Ireland, you always loved it there. We'll come back married and they can all kiss our arses!"

"Ron, I couldn't do that. I have to...oh, I can't think right now!"

"I need to know you won't walk down that aisle. I have to know it."

"It's so sudden! You just came in here, and…and now we've discovered that we're in love, and I'm _engaged_—"

"Break it off. You've got time. Meet me at Wheezes tonight, after closing. We'll talk about it all. I've got to go now. But promise me you'll come tonight. We'll talk it all out. I love you. Promise me, Hermione."

She blushed, nodding. "Yes. I promise. I'll come. I'll be there."

He kissed her. The Time Turner was hot, he would disappear any moment now. He grabbed the doorknob, and raced towards the nearest stairwell, just in the nick of time.

* * *

Ron was back in the dark holding room of the Time Turner. Harry had kept the door locked, as promised. When he fully gathered his wits, he sent a quick wand to wand message to Harry.

"Hey, mate," Harry quipped as he opened the door. "I know we agreed to do a signal of sorts today, but for the life of me, I can't remember why I had to unlock you from this room."

"I've got to get to St. Mungo's. Right away. Hermione—"

"Whoa, Hermione's at St. Mungo's? What for?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Ron stopped. "Where else would she be?"

Harry now gave Ron a quizzical look. "Sorry, did you just ask me where _else_ would she be? I thought you two moved in together a few weeks ago? After she ended her engagement with that twat? Is she in the hospital or what? What the hell is going on?"

Ron let out a yelp, and burst into laughter. "Harry, y'know what, I just realized everything's fine. I'll fill you in, er, later. Much later. I've got to get home, home to Hermione! I'll owl you."

He ran all the way to his flat, flinging open the door and dashing inside...where he found Hermione at the desk in his study-their study- amidst a stack of newspapers. She looked up when she saw him, beautiful as ever, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head. "I think I've found it, Ron! It isn't law, but it does involve ethical treatment of animals! I called just to inquire, and they want me to come in for an interview in the morning!"

Ron dropped everything and went to her. "Let's make a baby."

"What?!" Hermione screeched as he scooped her up. "Are you out of your…of your _bloody_ mind?"

She was giggling when he dumped her harmlessly to the bed that they clearly had been sharing. He paused, looking around the room. Her things- her perfume, her scarves, the neat row of her shoes, they were all here. It was true. He had fixed it. She was here. They were here, together.

Ron looked down at her, grinning as he tugged his shirt off over his head.

"You're not serious," Hermione said. "Are you? I couldn't possibly turn up 'expecting'…and we're not even married!"

Their clothing had already started to come off. "…I told you…Ireland…tomorrow…we'll elope…" Ron said in between kisses.

"But my interview!" she squeaked as she wiggled out of her underwear.

"After that, then. We'll take the afternoon train. We'll make a holiday of it," he whispered, laying over her warm body.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, gazing up from underneath him.

"I don't want to waste any more time," he said, kissing her, loving her. "I can't lose you. Ever again."

"Ever again?" she asked, arching her body to meet his. "What do you mean?"

He entered her, body, mind and soul. "Nothing," he breathed. "Except I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, and then they were done talking for the next half hour.

Which became another half hour after that.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

_Dearest Family & Friends,_

_It is with tremendous pleasure that we wish to announce the happy news of our marriage this past Wednesday, December 17. Please join us in celebrating our nuptials next Saturday at 8:00 p.m. at our residence, 2544 Parkland Place. Dinner, drinks and entertainment are on the Mr. and Mrs.! See you there! _

_Love from Ronald and Hermione Weasley. _


End file.
